


This Black Blood is Without End

by FlyUpInSky



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Arker!Lexa, Clexa is Endgame, F/F, Lexa Lives, Mystery, Nightbloods, Parallel Universes, Polaris Station, Reincarnation, Science Fiction, Slow Burn, Suspense, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 14:42:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 177,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6156940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyUpInSky/pseuds/FlyUpInSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of episode 3x06, Lexa and Clarke are united in their love and their mission for peace. However, all is not as it seems, as a traitor works to destroy their plans, the consequences of which cast Lexa's soul on a journey back to a parallel time and reality. Some things change, but destiny is always the same. Can Lexa unravel the mystery of this alternate reality, find her Soulmate once more, and stop the great evil which has stalked mankind?</p><p>Or, this is a science fiction romp that is turning into a very long story. If you like adventure and suspense, then this might be for you. I don't want to over-tag and give too much away :) This is me keeping Lexa and Aden's stories alive because screw you JRoth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - What Comes Before

**Author's Note:**

> **Additional Note (9:12 pm CST 3/3/16): This fic was conceived of and the first two chapters fully written prior to 3x07 being aired. It was always my intent not to let what happens on the show post episode 3x06 greatly effect the story as I had already conceived and planned to write it. Lexa and Clarke are true soulmates, and they will be finding a happy ending here.**

_Author’s Note:_

_Alright folks, I have a lot of feelings about the idea of Clarke and Lexa as Soulmates, about the Nightbloods and their possible mythology, about Aden and Lexa as a kickass pair, Polaris as the 13 th station, and any possible AU starring Arker!Lexa. I needed a place to put all those feelings, so here we are. Full disclosure, this will be a sort-of-canon-but-not-really-canon Parallel Universe work which will see some characters changing from Grounder to Arker, and vice versa, and will be told mostly from Lexa’s POV. All characters will make an appearance (I don’t intend to write anyone out of the story, though they may show up in unusual places). This first chapter is pretty much a Prologue, picking up after the events of 3x06, and told from Clarke’s POV. Let’s be honest, we all know what is going on in Lexa’s mind, so I wanted to shine some light onto what is going on inside of Clarke.  Chapter 2 will switch to Lexa’s POV and set the stage for the AU of my dreams. If you are looking to jump straight into the meat of the story, you can easily just skip straight to Chapter 2. I own nothing, all mistakes are my own, comments/encouragement is appreciated, please be gentle with me, thanks for reading! - FlyUpInSky_

 

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The muted glow of candles and torchlight filled the spacious room in their soft light, casting gently upon the figures of the Commander of the Coalition and Clarke Griffin of the Ark, the remains of a simple meal scattered between them on the war room’s large, single table. The two young women did not speak, but instead appeared to be lost in their own thoughts, the conversation having lapsed while they ate and a comfortable silence having taken its place. Lexa’s green eyes scanned quickly through a series of reports written on slim rolls of paper in an indecipherable text, and Clarke’s own blue eyes were unfocused and distant, gazing sightlessly down at the assorted maps that dominated the rest of the table’s surface, memories of the dropship and thoughts of the people she knew and cared for back in Arkadia playing within her mind. Several servants moved unnoticed through the room, removing torches and extinguishing candles as they went, and the light slowly dimmed around them, darkness sliding closer and wrapping them in its soft embrace, their faces illuminated now only by the candles remaining on the table’s surface. With the exposed beams and concrete of the ruined tower now obscured in darkness, the room and its furnishings looked even more medieval, the new Dark Age of a post apocalypse Earth harkening humanity back to the dark ages of centuries past.

Clarke roused from her inner ruminations when the last of the servants stepped forward to clear away what was left of their meal, murmuring a soft question in _Trigedasleng_ before they withdrew. She glanced over at Lexa and, seeing that she was still focused on the reports in front of her and had taken no notice of the servant’s question, turned and answered in the same language.

“ _No, thank you, that will be all for now.”_

The servant bobbed his head in a slight bow upon her response and retreated, light from the torches in the hall spilling inwards briefly as the room’s heavy doors swung shut behind him. The room fell into an even deeper silence than before, one now lacking the slide and shuffle of servants’ feet and the guttering breaths of torches. Clarke was suddenly struck by the realization that they were now truly alone together as they had not been in more than a week’s time. Not since Carl Emerson, the last of the Mountain Men, had been banished eight days earlier, and the next crisis brought on by _Skaikru’s_ continued incursions into _Trikru’s_ lands had overwhelmed them, launching them both into a flurry of activity and political maneuverings which had since consumed their days and nights. The situation between the Clans of the Coalition and the people of Arkadia was continuing to deteriorate, as it seemed that every move they made to ensure future peace was met only with further acts of aggression by now-Chancellor Pike and his bloodthirsty followers.

Almost despite herself, Clarke’s mind again turned to Bellamy, the recriminations he had cast upon her in that room in Arkadia still painful to consider despite the time that had passed. Though she knew he supported Pike in his campaign – she even had the handcuffs to prove it! – Clarke still struggled to believe he was sincerely committed. That, despite everything that had happened, he couldn’t be persuaded to see reason somehow. The friendship and trust which had slowly grown between them in the frenetic days and weeks after the dropship landed, as they worked first against, and then with each other to keep their friends alive, had seemed unbreakable. Bellamy was supposed to be someone she could depend on, always…

Until he wasn’t. Until he had helped to carry out a senseless massacre which destroyed everything she and Lexa had been working towards. 

With each passing day since the slaughter of Indra’s army, Clarke found it easier to reconcile that her people had in fact committed such an atrocity. The initial shock, disbelief and horror she had experienced upon seeing the field of innocent dead had begun to settle, giving way instead to a wary sense of disillusionment. There was truly no limit to the horrors that humanity would reap upon one another. She should know. She was, after all, the mighty _Wanheda_ , Mountain Slayer. Hadn’t her own actions taught her what people were truly capable of? … What Bellamy was capable of?

Clarke sighed deeply, settling back into her seat and tilting her head backwards to rest on the high seatback. She felt tired, and much older than her actual years. Not just physically tired from the stress of the last weeks, but a weariness in her soul which threatened to drag her down and bury her in accumulated grief. The wild, damaged, wounded creature she had been only weeks before when she first arrived in Polis felt like a distant memory. The hopeful, idealistic girl who had stepped off the dropship and smiled as fresh, pine-scented air hit her face for the first time was like a beautiful stranger seen in a distant dream. Clarke wondered who she was now, and if she would ever be able to get back to who she had been before. Should she even want to? The things she had seen and done had changed her, it was true, but she was still as committed as ever to protecting her friends, and the knowledge and experiences she had gained since landing on the ground had taught her much. She was more capable now of helping them than ever before, and that was exactly what she had been doing from the moment she agreed to bow to Lexa at the summit. In fact, since deciding to spare Emerson’s life, Clarke had felt more at peace with herself and her decisions than she had since that terrible day in Mount Weather. She was even drawing again, she acknowledged with a private smile, something she thought she might never have the heart to do again. 

A sound beside her drew her attention and she tilted her head to the left, her eyes meeting Lexa’s immediately. The Commander had turned sideways in her seat and was now regarding her, having set aside the dispatches she had been reading through most of their shared dinner. They had been meeting with assorted advisors and ambassadors in this very room for most of the evening, and Lexa was therefore still dressed in formal attire, her dark coat hanging around her protectively like the armor it was. She was without war paint, however, and had undone several clasps on the front of her coat once the others had departed, which did much to soften her normally fierce appearance. As ever, her posture was alert and poised, her movements containing the sort of unconscious self-possession only found in one who knows their every action is being watched, their every expression evaluated for potential weakness. Even like this, almost motionless and making no noticeable sound, her presence filled the room, drawing all eyes to her. It was the same whether there were two people in the room with them or two hundred. Lexa, she mused, possessed that special type of guarded reserve which both fascinated and intimidated, simultaneously drawing people closer while also pushing them away… An effect to which Clarke was, admittedly, not _entirely_ immune. 

“You should go and rest, Clarke,” she said, her voice soft and face inscrutable in the candlelight, “There is nothing more to be done tonight that cannot wait until morning, and you seem tired.”

Clarke exhaled a short breath, pulling herself upright in her chair and turning to face the other woman, a rueful smile tugging for existence at the corners of her lips.

“No, not tired, just… distracted. Too distracted to sleep, probably,” she admitted, earning the smallest of a raised eyebrow from Lexa at her words.

“If you are concerned about Titus and his continued stance against your people, I assure you, he will not act without my orders,” Lexa reassured her after a slight pause, annoyance at the man who was her closest advisor pinching the corners of her eyes, her change in expression so slight that most would not have recognized it. “He may question me, and test my patience from time to time, but he is loyal.” 

Clarke nodded, her mind turning back to the arguments which had occurred in this very room earlier that day. Upon realizing that the Commander could not be persuaded to all-out war with _Skaikru_ , Titus had turned his efforts towards arguing for a more targeted retaliatory strike.

_“If it is only the new leaders among Skaikru who want war, as Wanheda insists, then surely we can all agree that if it is they who ordered the massacre, then it is they who deserve our vengeance! Heda, I implore you, the clans will not stand for further inaction while Skaikru continues to invade our lands and molest our people. Send in our best assassins. Strike the head from the snake and watch the body whither. Peace will never be achieved without more blood spilt. Let it be the blood of those who ordered our people’s deaths, and who defy your hopes for peace at every turn!”_

His words had had an immediate effect upon the entire room, rippled shouts and murmurs of agreement spreading amongst the assembled advisors, war leaders and ambassadors. Even Clarke had found herself wondering if perhaps his plan had merit. Hadn’t she and Octavia essentially attempted much the same thing only a week before?

But no, it was not nearly so simple, Clarke knew, and Lexa had agreed with her. As tempting as it was to hope that simply removing Pike and his inner circle would fix everything, there were too many ways for an assassination attempt to fail. Especially one on such a scale as Titus proposed, targeting not one, not two, but dozens of people within Arkadia. Inevitably, some of the ringleaders would survive. These new deaths at the hands of Grounder assassins – within the perceived safety of their own walls, no less – would only goad _Skaikru_ to further attacks, deepening the mistrust between the two peoples and convincing even the more peace-minded Arkers to support Pike’s policies. 

No, this course of action, like all of the others Titus had championed over the last week, could undoubtedly only end in war with the people from the Ark. Which was, Clarke suspected, his true goal all along. She had not forgotten what Lexa had told her several days earlier. That Titus had strongly opposed _Skaikru_ entering the Coalition as the thirteenth clan, and had suggested she kill _Wanheda_ in order to strengthen her position as Commander.

“I know you trust Titus, Lexa. I believe he is doing what he thinks is best for your people. I want to trust your judgement of him, but…” she paused, conscious suddenly of the delicacy of this conversation. She had asked the Commander to trust her judgement in the past, and Octavia was only alive today because Lexa had put her trust in Clarke’s assessment of the loyalty of one of her own. Did she really have a right to question Titus’ loyalty like this with her now?

In the end, the need to protect her friends in Arkadia drove her to continue, despite the small twinges of guilt she felt. The Commander wanted her honesty, she knew, and even seemed to appreciate her freely spoken opinions to the extent that she now sought out Clarke for her advice. But she also knew that Lexa – not just the Commander, but the person that lay beneath the mask of duty and sacrifice for her people – yearned for Clarke to trust her.

“But… I don’t trust him,” she admitted finally, unable to stop herself from trying to do something about the vague suspicions crowding at the corners of her mind. “It’s not just that he is eager for war, and has tried to persuade you to retaliate against my people. Those things I can understand. My people committed a terrible atrocity, and he is justified in his desire for vengeance. What concerns me is that he is so eager to say so in front of others. He knows you are committed to this, and that his support is necessary if we are ever going to get your people to agree, but he continues to be vocal about his dissent in front of your ambassadors, your warriors.”

She leaned towards Lexa, blue eyes focused and unwavering on her, her voice softening from its initial fierceness to a more concerned, anxious tone, her sudden emotions surprising her.

“He told me he fears for your life, that setting aside ‘Blood must have blood’ is dangerous, not only for the Coalition but for _you_ personally. If he truly wanted to protect you, he should be helping us convince the others, not planning assassinations that are doomed to fail in the war room for everyone’s ears to hear!” 

Clarke watched Lexa’s face carefully for her reaction, unsurprised when she continued to hold her gaze, not glancing away or breaking eye contact as so many others might have done in the face of the intensity that was Clarke Griffin with a cause. Clarke felt the tightening in her chest, the slight pang of emotion deep somewhere in her stomach and throat as she stared back at her, an uncomfortable reminder that she felt more for this woman than she should… More than was safe in this dangerous world. After a prolonged moment of consideration, she was relieved to see Lexa’s features relax a bit, her guard coming down in a way she only ever seemed to do when they were alone together, as they were now.

“I understand your concerns about him, Clarke. Even Indra shares them. She said as much on that bloody field when I chose not to attack Arkadia. But neither of you know Titus as I do.” Lexa leaned forward with her words, clasping her hands loosely in front of her with her elbows on her knees, her voice gentle but insistent. Their chairs were separated by a couple feet, but seated as they were, sideways and leaning towards one another, with only the soft and intimate glow of the candles clustered in the center of the table beside them, it seemed as though there was no distance between them at all.

“True, he does not share our vision of peace through peaceful means. He has only known peace through strength, and peace through war. We built the Coalition together using those principals and the traditions of our people to guide us, and it has worked so far. You say he knows that I am committed to peace with _Skaikru_ , but I do not believe he fully comprehends my commitment, nor my eventual goal. No yet, at least. Until Titus is completely convinced that I cannot be swayed, he will continue to push for war with _Skaikru_.” 

Clarke was chilled at her words, her concerns mounting as Lexa spoke.

“But,” Lexa continued, “that does not mean he will defy me. He has been my most trusted advisor since the day I was called to lead my people. He has served three Commanders before me, and will likely serve the next upon my death. His loyalty to the Blood has been tested countless times and never found wanting.” 

Clarke failed to feel sufficiently reassured, and again felt frustration at Lexa’s casual disregard for her own lifespan, as though she never expected to live past the present moment. However, she was soon distracted from her worries as Lexa’s voice took on a more passionate edge, face and eyes lighting up as she spoke her next thoughts, a tremulous hope and promise echoing behind every word. It instantly transported Clarke back to that moment in the throne room eight days earlier, when Lexa spoke to her people with fire and eloquence in her voice in the face of their confusion over Clarke’s decision not to take vengeance on Emerson.

“He fears change, as do all of my people. He fears I have lost my way. But we must convince him, all of them, that there is a new and better way. Peace without bloodshed. A future without violence threatening everything we cherish. My people have only known violence for too long. Since the world burned and civilization fell, savagery was all that has kept us alive. All of my people, including Titus, must be given the chance to _see_ the future as you and I do, and to _believe_ it is possible. This is not something that can be achieved in a day, Clarke, or a week, or maybe not even in years. But we must show them it can be done, and it starts with _Skaikru_. In time, Titus will see this. His greatest goal was always to see the twelve clans united. After I took command, I showed him it could be done. I will show him that this can be done as well.” 

And there it was, everything that made this remarkable person so fascinating, so unique, and so utterly captivating. Kane had called her a visionary… and she was, truly. However, she doubted even he had known just how true his words were at the time. Clarke exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding, swallowing her dry throat around the lump that had formed there. When Lexa spoke this way, of her hopes for her people, and of _“we”_ , and of a peaceful future as a mission to be shared, as though it was something which she and Clarke were destined to create together… It made her heart clench. It made some of the air leave the room, as though pushed out by the force of her words. And despite herself, despite her pragmatism and understanding of the incredibly difficult challenges facing them, Clarke found her spirits lifting, her earlier despair over Bellamy and concerns about Titus driven away by the sheer power of the other woman’s words. If anyone could inspire this change, it was Lexa. She need only have faith in her, as she had on the day of the massacre, when she had laid the lives of her friends, her mother, and everyone she knew in Arkadia at her feet, praying that her arguments for peace would reach the truly inspired soul that she knew, just knew, was Lexa’s true inner self.

She had glimpsed it first in tiny pieces on the day they first met, when Lexa silenced Indra’s objections and reached forward to take Anya’s braid in her hands, listening to her offer of peace despite the many deaths Clarke had personally caused. When she accepted without argument Clarke’s assertion that they focus only on rescuing their people from Mount Weather, and not on the wholesale slaughter of the people who had hunted, terrorized, and made monsters out of her people for generations. When she brought the Arkers into the Coalition, accepting all of the consequences for that decision on her own shoulders, willingly fighting a duel to the death, then pardoning those involved in order to avoid casting the clans into further conflict. When Clarke had gone before her to beg for Arkadia to be spared, she had been operating on instinct alone, her heart and soul telling her that Lexa would agree, even as her head screamed at her for foolish hopes. There was no real reason to believe she could possibly agree. Only that Clarke had felt it somewhere within her all along that the two of them were kindred spirits, more similar and knowable to each other than seemed logical, or even possible. Despite how often she had wished it was otherwise in the aftermath of Mount Weather. When Lexa shocked both her and Indra with her decision, she had felt the last of her walls begin to crumble. 

Clarke felt it the moment it finally happened, mere seconds after Lexa finished speaking, their eyes still holding each other with an intimacy that should have felt uncomfortable but didn’t. The last ghosts of suspicion and doubt, of fear of further heartache, of bitterness over past decisions and their consequences, finally melted away. Just like that, the walls she had carefully constructed between herself and the person before her were gone as though they had never been. A tension she hadn’t even known she had been carrying suddenly leaving her like a gentle exhalation.

She felt light and warm. She felt, to be honest, a little dizzy. Her lips twitched into a small smile. There was an inexplicable urge to laugh out loud, but she stifled it. Her small smile grew on her face, becoming a full and genuine grin, and again she felt the urge to laugh when she saw the look of surprise which stole over Lexa’s face, one corner of the other woman’s mouth sliding into a genuine smile of her own. Clarke thought that it must look unusual, her smiling so freely. Her mouth felt strange, unused to the sensation, and it occurred to her that Lexa had likely never seen her smile without restraint. Not during any of the countless hours they had spent together planning their attack on Mount Weather, when she had been driven and consumed almost completely by her need to save her friends, and certainly not in the time since. She hadn’t felt like she deserved it after what she had done, and any smile in Lexa’s presence had seemed like a betrayal to those she had been forced to kill.

“Okay, Lexa,” she said, reaching forward to rest her left hand lightly on top of Lexa’s clasped hands, her smile lessening somewhat as she focused on conveying the sincerity of her next words, concerned that she say just the right thing.

“I do trust you, and I meant what I said before, that your legacy will be peace. It’s the greatest gift a leader can give to her people, and if anyone can make them see that, can make Titus see that, then it’s you. I’ll stop worrying about Titus. I know you can show them… that _we_ can show them that finding a way to make peace with _Skaikru_ without using violence is not just for the good of those living in Arkadia, but for the good of all our people.”

Lexa’s eyes widened slightly, their gaze shining and intent upon her face for a moment before dipping down to glance at where Clarke’s hand rested against her own. When she looked back up, Clarke’s breath caught at the sight. As she had seen only a few times before, Lexa wore an expression that was both tender and painfully exposed. One that completely stripped away any hint of the Commander of the Coalition and left in its place only a girl just a few years older than herself. A shy smile had burst forth on her suddenly young face, taking flight with all the fluttering vulnerability of a newborn bird, and Clarke knew that she had spoken the right words.

“ _Mochof, Klark kom Skaikru_ ,” she said, thanking her in _Trigedasleng_ so softly that it was almost a whisper.

“ _Pro, Leksa_ ,” she replied, squeezing the other woman’s two hands together with her one, the physical touch sending warm and delightful messages up her arm. Her own fingers felt cold, but Lexa’s were deliciously warm despite the night’s chill seeping into the room. The detached part of her mind, the part that had trained under her mother’s medical tutelage for years on the Ark, wondered if the strange, black blood which all of the Nightbloods possessed effected their core temperatures, or if it had any other unusual side effects. She supposed she could ask Lexa herself, or even Titus. He seemed to be her principal assistant in the care and teaching of the Nightblood children, and if he had truly served for three previous Commanders, as Lexa had just told her, then surely his knowledge of the strange blood and its properties was unparalleled.

She frowned, a new thought striking her at once, and she shook Lexa’s hands lightly, her tone a little playful.

“Wait, did you really just say that Titus has served three Commanders before you?” she asked, disbelief clear in her voice. “That can’t be possible… Just how old is he, anyways?” 

Rather than the answering smile she had been expecting at her question, she was surprised when Lexa’s open expression closed somewhat, seriousness overtaking her face as she answered.

“Titus is no older or younger than he appears, though you would need to ask him directly for a true accounting of his years. There have been many Commanders before me, and the trials are difficult. It is unusual for any of us to last as long as I have.” 

Clarke immediately wished she had not asked, though this did somewhat explain the apparent disregard with which Lexa always spoke about her possible death. If she had been discovered as a child to have black blood, and brought here to train at a young age, as she had earlier insisted all Nightblood children were, it meant that she had likely witnessed the full rise and fall of at least one of the Commanders before her. How many times had Lexa watched one of the older novitiates step into the mantle of Commander, only to die shortly after? It was a terrible thing to contemplate, and helped explain how a girl of sixteen could be so ruthless, so driven as to not only lead a crusade to join the twelve clans, but to then succeed where others had failed. All Grounder children were exceptionally tough when measured by the standards of the people of the Ark, but Lexa’s accomplishments were remarkable. It also helped explain the apparent care she took with the children themselves. Especially Aden, the boy whom she had introduced as her probable successor. The Nightbloods were likely the closest thing to a family that Lexa had ever known. 

And why did Clarke get the feeling that when Lexa said _“the trials are difficult”_ , that she had done so with hidden emphasis, as though what she had truly said was “ _Trials_ ”, with the first letter deserving of capitalization. Not a generalization of the difficulties of being in charge, but instead a distinct series of challenges which must be faced and overcome. The more she learned of the _Natblidas_ , and of the _Hedas_ before Lexa and her Coalition, the more it seemed to Clarke as though the position had originally been more akin to a spiritual leader than a political one. Prior to Lexa, the clans had apparently been even more fractious and war torn than they were now. And yet, all of the clans had willingly sent their Nightblood children to Polis? There was so much she did not yet understand about the history and culture of the people she was living amongst. It struck Clarke that despite the many hours spent in each other’s company, and despite the undeniable an inexplicable connection she felt with her, there was still a great deal about each other that they didn’t know. 

Time enough to change that, she decided. 

“So, if Titus served previous Commanders, did he help to train you when you were one of the Nightbloods?” she asked, eager to learn more about Lexa’s past but wanting to steer clear of discussions of death and trials for now. “Why do I suspect that the main reason for his lack of hair is because of trying to keep up with you as a small child?” 

This time her questions did produce a smile as she had hoped, and it wasn’t lost upon Clarke that their hands were still lightly touching, their bodies seeming to drift closer together of their own accord. They were both now perched barely on the edges of their respective seats, their knees nearly intertwined. It felt good not to resist the attraction she had always felt for the complex woman before her. Deciding she liked the way Lexa’s hands felt beneath hers, Clarke gave in to temptation and let her other hand join them, fingers playing lightly along the outsides of Lexa’s clenched fists. The other woman was tensing up, she realized, unsure of what this unnecessary physical contact might mean and wary of doing anything Clarke might not want. They had become comfortable together over the past weeks, it was true, but Lexa was always careful to keep an appropriate distance. That consideration, which she had so greatly appreciated up until now, as it had allowed her to more easily keep her barriers up, now made Clarke feel a little regretful. It spoke a great deal of Lexa’s uncertainty regarding Clarke’s feelings.

 _I didn’t think it would ever be possible, and it only just happened moments ago, but I think I have truly forgiven her_ , she thought to herself, the sensations still new enough that it was a marvel to be feeling them. It was a thousand times the relief she had felt in deciding not to kill Emerson, and a million times the freedom she had felt in walking away from the burdens of guilt and leadership in Arkadia.

_I’ve forgiven her, but she doesn’t yet know it._

“I do not know if blame for his baldness can be laid at me feet, as he has kept his head shaved as fitting his position for as long as I have known him,” Lexa was saying, her words not without an edge of humor. “He only suffered as my instructor for six years, however, as I was sent back to my clan to serve as Anya’s second in my thirteenth year.” 

Clarke quirked an eyebrow.

“Is that normal, sending a Nightblood back to their clan to be trained? Or were you such a handful that it was decided only Anya could possible keep you under control when you hit your teens?” 

This earned yet another swift smile, Lexa’s eyes casting sideways to regard the candles where they flickered in the center of the table. Clarke got the sense that she was both confused and pleased by the playful questions, perhaps surprised by her interest in her childhood and the obvious flirtation in Clarke’s voice and touch.

Lexa’s eyes cast back to her, giving a haughty shrug in response, a ghost of the hard edges and tough veneer she normally wore as the Commander making an appearance as she explained with some pride, “Not normal, no, but not unheard of. I was the best of my peers, and it was decided that I had learned all I could here and that my training would be better served away from the shelter of Polis for a time. Anya was my mentor for nearly three years, and I believe she would have told you if asked that I was a difficult and thickheaded student, far too stubborn for my own good… but only because that was her way.” 

Clarke chuckled at this, enjoying the mental image of a younger, less-than-enthusiastic Anya faced with the task of taking a young – and no doubt insufferably self-assured – teenaged Lexa under her wing.

“What of you?” Lexa asked, genuine curiosity tinging her voice. “If either of us were cause for terror in our elders as children, it was most certainly you,” she added with a strange wistfulness, green eyes catching and holding hers. Clarke felt the hands beneath her own clench tightly once more and then release, her palms falling open and turning upwards, hands now cradling Clarke’s in her own. Holding them as though they were something precious. As though Clarke was something precious.

It was her turn now to glance downwards at their joined hands before answering, face flushing slightly.

“Oh, ah, well… I was pretty well behaved,” she denied, admitting after a moment more, “But, when _I_ turned thirteen, I got drunk on some alcohol my friend Wells and I took from his father’s office, then returned to my family’s rooms and immediately threw up in my dad’s favorite work boots that he had left by the door.”

“Really?” Lexa asked dryly, not sounding overly impressed with her dangerous misdeeds. “Was he angry with you? No, let me guess… He tried to punish you, but you somehow talked or tricked your way out of it.”

Clarke allowed herself to look offended before shaking her head at her.

“No, of course not. My dad was a gentle and educated man, and I never heard an unkind word from him in my entire life.” She chuckled, then added, “But I swear to you Lexa, that next morning, when he slipped his foot into that left boot and discovered what I had done, I learned about ten new curse words and three new parts of the human anatomy within seconds of his toes hitting vomit.”

She smiled, her mind filled with the memory, some of the first unpainful thoughts she had had of her father since his execution on the Ark, and certainly the first time since his death she had spoken of him and not felt overwhelmed by the fact of his loss. She watched Lexa’s lips first tremble, then slide and part into an actual smile, at first one, and then another breathy exhalation escaping her in what was… 

Wait... Was that a giggle?

Clarke’s jaw dropped, fingers clenching down and gripping Lexa’s hands beneath her own in shock.

“You’re _laughing_?!” she demanded, a spontaneous grin splitting her face. Lexa merely shook her head, lips clamping down unnaturally in what was surely an effort to contain any further outbursts.

“You _were_ laughing! I don’t think I have ever heard you laugh before.”

“I _am_ human, Clarke. I am capable of laughter,” she replied with remarkable poise, her eyes darting down to stare for a moment at Clarke’s lips before lifting up to her face again, her expression showing none of the embarrassment which Clarke might have expected. Not that she had ever spent time trying to imagine what Lexa’s laughter might sound like. No, of course not.

“I know you are human, Lexa… I’ve always seen that in you, even when I thought I hated you,” Clarke said, the words feeling as though they were spilling out of her unbidden from a deep and hidden place.

Lexa turned serious as well, a slight tremor passing through her hands which Clarke could only feel because she was still holding them so tightly.

“And do you…,” she started, pausing to bite her lower lip in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture, one which had the effect of drawing and holding Clarke’s attention completely on those lips, rather than on the words she was speaking. Her teeth released their hold, and she continued, “… And is there not still a part of you, Clarke, which thinks you might hate me?”

She never got an answer. Or at least, not in so many words. The moment she finished speaking, Clarke slid forward and onto her knees between Lexa’s legs, and without waiting for permission, drew her lips against hers, mouth hungry and full of intent. She felt Lexa startle against her when their lips connected, much as Clarke had during the initial moments of the previous kiss they had shared all those months ago. Entire lifetimes, and yet, no time at all spanned between that moment and this one, and just as had happened the first time, all uncertainties melted away as soon as Lexa pressed back into the kiss, a delicious give and take building between them, every shared breath a physical manifestation of the true and soul deep connection they had always shared. 

Clarke felt her skin ignite as the kiss continued, lips parting slightly to allow the delicate entrance of Lexa’s tongue. She felt her body begin to smolder with the beginnings of true passion, as though it were just now waking from a long hibernation. There had been her brief liaison with Niylah, of course, the woman from the trading post with whom she had felt some trust and no little shared attraction. It had not even been all that long ago, really. Only a matter of weeks. And yet, the landscape of Clarke’s soul had altered so completely since coming to Polis that she could hardly recall any significant details from the encounter. She had just wanted another’s touch, and to feel connected to humanity once more after being alone for so long. Niylah had given that to her freely, and without restraint or censure. But she had still felt cold… So cold, both before and after, and it was that ice around her heart which had caused her to gather her belongings and slip back out into the night alone.

Not so here, with Lexa. Not so here, where there was only warmth, only comfort and connection. All the pent up desires of an attraction denied and repressed for months burned through their kiss. All of the things she had failed to find in Niylah, in Finn, she was finding right here, in the arms of the young woman right before her. This visionary leader of her people, who felt doomed to endless conflict when all she yearned for was peace for her people. This fascinating, savage, relentless force of nature, who felt so deeply yet dared not show those feelings to the people she cared for. Dared not allow anyone to see how tender her heart truly was lest they destroy it completely. But Clarke saw through it all. Had always seen through it to the person within, the person who could so obviously match her own inner strength and spirit that it both terrified and elated her.

Lexa slowed their kiss and drew back gently, eyes so obviously hooded with desire that it sent Clarke’s pulse racing even faster, if that were possible. She searched Clarke’s face intently, seeking something. An answer, perhaps, to some unspoken question. Clarke reached up with her left hand, cupping her cheek and drawing their foreheads closer together. The candlelight wrapped around them, encasing the two lovers in its warm glow.

“Do you remember the first words you ever spoke to me on the day that we met?” she whispered, smiling when Lexa nodded yes, their eyes never leaving each other’s gaze.

“And do you remember the first words I spoke to you?” she asked, eyebrow raised.

“ _Sha_ ,” Lexa answered a bit breathily, slipping in to _Trigedasleng_ without thought, the rising flush in her cheeks leaving no doubt that she not only wasn’t lying, but that she had caught the deeper meaning behind Clarke’s words.

“It’s always been true,” she whispered, and with that promise between them, their lips came together once again.

  

**_You’re the one…_ **


	2. All Beginnings Are Another’s End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Additional Note (9:12 pm CST 3/3/16): This fic was conceived and the first two chapters written prior to 3x07 being aired. It was always my intent not to let what happens on the show post episode 3x06 greatly effect the story as I have already conceived and planned to write it. Lexa and Clarke are true soulmates, and they will be finding a happy ending here.**

_Authors Note:_

_Okay, so I am actually a bit hesitant to post this chapter before episode 3x07 airs, but have decided that I don’t feel like waiting. Basically, the initial ideas I had for setting up this story came from a combination of the revelations made in 3x06, and elements of things I saw in the 3x07 promo. While watching the promo, I thought, “wow, wouldn’t it really suck if this happened?.... It better not, but that would be a really cool way to jump into the AU fanfic I kind of want to write!” So, that being said, although I don’t actually think the writers of the show would be as cruel as I am, and I am not really expecting to see any of the things that happen in this chapter actually happen on the next episode, I can’t say positively that this chapter doesn’t contain any spoiler-ish content. So, if that is at all concerning to you, you may just want to hold off on this one until after seeing episode 7 of season 3. _

_Also, Warning: there be blood and pain here! Just remember that I warned you, and hopefully I will make it up to you in future chapters. Please forgive me, Clexa! (*sobs quietly in the corner*). As always, thanks for coming along for the journey - - FlyUpInSky_

_\-----------------------------------------------------------------------_

 

Lexa woke to sunshine.

She lay unmoving for several long moments, eyes slit against the bright glow of the sun as it rose over Polis, invading her bedroom through the open curtains of her largest window. It lit the disheveled furs on the large and ornate bed on which she slept, and set dust motes glittering as they floated past. She turned slightly, feeling the warm limbs encircling her tighten their grasp, hearing the low moan Clarke’s mouth made against her neck as she snuggled deeper under the covers beside her, hiding her face from the bright light that now illuminated them.

Lexa smiled, letting her hands brush along Clarke’s arms. She allowed herself to take a few minutes to enjoy how the other woman was wrapped around her, her hair streaming like a wild, golden mane on Lexa’s pillow, her grip as fierce and possessive as a lioness. Although she was unused to sleeping with another person, she found that she hadn’t minded Clarke spooning against her… perhaps because she was so exhausted from the hours they had spent doing things _other_ than sleeping first.

She was not sure what she had expected their lovemaking to be like. In fact, she had hardly dare imagine the possibility at all, as the likelihood of its occurrence had seemed so small, so remote, that to even entertain such notions seemed a needless torture. It was easy to be distracted by her duty, by the needs and expectations of her people, and so Lexa had mostly succeeded in _not_ spending time building pleasant fantasies around one Clarke of the Sky People.

She was actually glad for that now, for there was no possible way any fantasies could have stood up to reality. Lexa felt the smile on her face grow, her heart opening and flooding with the memory of how perfect they had matched up together in almost every way. She was an absolute marvel, Lexa mused, as unique and different from her one previous lover as could almost possibly be imagined.

Lovemaking with Costia had always been slow and sweet. Filled with laughter and passion, yes, but also tempered by the gentleness that was Costia’s spirit. She had not been a warrior, nor a fellow _Natblida_. Instead, she had been the first person to show Lexa that a touch could be tender and soft. That kisses could be light and filled with sweetness. They were both so young – barely fifteen summers – the first time they made love, and their love for each other had remained a thing of purity until the end, lacking pretentions or adult fears to complicate the simple feelings they shared.

Lexa looked down at the form of the woman sleeping beside her, able to see her clearly in her mind’s eye despite the swaths of furs now covering her creamy skin. She looked so peaceful there, the languor of sleep making her appear both soft and vulnerable… But Lexa knew better. Clarke could be gentle, yes, and her kisses and touch could be achingly sweet, but underneath it all there raged a needy and demanding passion that could not be satisfied unless answered with the same ferocity.

Clarke was like wildfire, and although she had allowed Lexa to set a slow pace at first, once the other girl’s passion caught full flame Lexa quickly found that, Commander or not, she was no longer the one in control.

Deciding that she had spent more than enough time basking in the afterglow, and knowing that she doubtless had countless tasks awaiting her attention, Lexa roused herself from her half-awake state and turned in Clarke’s arms, ducking her head slightly to plant a light kiss on the blonde girl’s lips. She withdrew when she felt no response, placing her lips to her exposed left ear instead.

“Clarke,” she whispered, wanting to wake her gently. She let her right hand trail through her golden tresses, as enamored with its unusual brightness now as she had been when she first set eyes on her in her tent all those months ago.

“Clarke, it is morning. Time to wake,” she tried again, noticing the slight smile that creased the other’s face at her words. She kissed her again, and this time she felt Clarke respond, their lips moving together in a lazy and familiar rhythm. Clarke’s blue eyes opened and sought out her own, and Lexa watched her rise to full awareness of her surroundings, amused by the sudden flash of confusion in her eyes and the slight flush that rose to her cheeks. After everything they had done, and especially after experiencing Clarke’s assertiveness and confidence during the previous night, she had not expected her to revert to shyness now.

“Good morning,” Clarke croaked out after a beat, her voice raspy with sleep, the self-consciousness she had briefly displayed disappearing after only a moment.

“Were you expecting someone else?” Lexa asked with an arched brow, teasing her.

Clarke punched her shoulder weakly, her features coming alive when she smiled.

“Of course not,” she huffed, then quickly kissed the exposed skin of the shoulder she had just lightly struck. The kisses soon strayed, traveling up the arch of her neck and along her jawline, and Lexa let her head tilt back with a sigh, enjoying the affectionate touches. She pulled back the moment Clarke’s hands began to wander, however, grabbing her wrists with authority and ignoring the frustrated moan the other girl gave at being denied.

“As pleasant as this is, Clarke, I’m afraid I don’t have much time to linger. The hour is already late, and I have responsibilities.” The look of regret her words caused made her smile, and so she quickly moved to soothe Clarke’s feelings, softening her grip and bringing the hands she held up to her mouth, slowly kissing each of her fingers, holding her gaze with her eyes.

When she finished, she released Clarke’s hands and kissed her lightly on the lips again, then whispered to her softly, “I never thought I would have anything like last night or this morning again while I still lived in this world… Thank you for sharing yourself with me.”

She had thought her words might prompt a smile or a kiss, or perhaps some answering sentiment of her own, but instead Clarke just stared back at her, an unreadable expression on her face. Not for the first time, Lexa hoped her words and way of speaking had translated correctly in Clarke’s language, and wondered if they had sounded unduly strange in some way. Language was more than just simple translation, and she was aware that the Sky People sometimes used quite different phrases and patterns of speech than what she had been taught.

Clarke finally did respond, sliding forward to wrap her arms around her again, pressing her cheek against Lexa’s chest in a tight embrace, the crown of her hair tickling Lexa’s chin.

“Last night was…” she murmured, trailing off before starting again, “This is… amazing, Lexa. You’re amazing.”

Lexa felt her heart swell at the words, her own arms coming around her to return her embrace as Clarke continued speaking, her face hidden but voice unusually exposed.

“I never could have imagined having this… with you, in this way. When I first came to Polis…”

“You mean when I had you captured and brought here for the summit?” Lexa prompted when Clarke paused, though she wished she could swallow the words as soon as they left her mouth. But Clarke merely snorted in amusement, apparently no longer as wounded by Lexa’s actions as she had been.

“Yes, Lexa, after you _kidnapped_ me, sending a ruthless bounty-hunting _Azgeda_ prince to hunt me down and drag me here against my will… _After_ that, the first week I was here in Polis, I spent each and every day thinking of all the reasons why I could never forgive you for what you did at Mount Weather. I thought I would never get over the pain I was feeling. But that doesn’t matter anymore, because I discovered something last night. Something I meant to tell you earlier.”

Lexa held very still in her arms, wishing she could see her face as she waited for the rest of her words. In a second she got her wish, as Clarke leaned back, head tilting to peer up at her.

“I forgive you, Lexa. I think… I think I forgave you a while ago. It just took me some time to realize it.”

They stayed in bed together for a little while longer, each unwilling to leave the other’s arms. When at last Lexa finally released her hold and gathered herself to leave the solace of their shared bed, it was Clarke’s fingers which reached up to brush away the tears that had left silent, sparkling trails down the Commander’s cheeks.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

The cracking sound of wooden staves coming together filled the clearing, the slim and darting figures of Nightblood children moving to and fro upon the grass as they fought each other in mock combat, their instructors wading among them like large hulking shadows in the gathering gloom. Lexa stood somewhat removed, her focused gaze moving from youth to youth as they practiced, evaluating their progress in the week since she had last observed them fight. She watched as Aden quickly disarmed and struck down his current opponent, reaching down immediately to help the other boy back up with an affable smile. The other boy, Nunin, pushed his helping hands away with a scowl, finding his own feet and stalking over to pick up his lost weapon, his embarrassment at having been so easily defeated by the slighter boy obvious.

She suppressed the urge to smile at their competitiveness, aware of the ring of spectators who lingered in the periphery amongst the trees, just within eyesight. They were not truly here to observe the Nightbloods train, she knew, but were instead almost certainly hoping to find an opportunity to corner her in conversation. She had been avoiding the clan ambassadors and her various advisors for much of the day, tired of hearing the same endless demands for vengeance she had been hearing every day for the past week. Tired of their sneering condescension as they spoke of _tradition_ and _honor_ , as though any of them truly cared for anything other than bloodshed for their own ends… And exploiting any weakness she might reveal, of course. As though the massacre of so many _Trikru_ warriors, loyal men and women from the Commander’s very own birth clan, was not something that the other clan leaders of the _Kongeda_ were sure to be secretly celebrating.

She turned her sharp eyes away from the circling sycophants, endeavoring to recapture her earlier good mood. It had been difficult to leave Clarke that morning and rejoin the harsh and unforgiving world outside her chambers. Selfishly, she wished the true extent of what they shared between them could remain a secret, safe forever from all of the forces that might seek to keep them apart, but she knew such a thing was not truly possible. She did not doubt that somewhere, somehow, knowledge of the depth of their relationship was already circulating. She knew her personal guards were loyal. They feared her, as well they should, and would not purposefully betray her secrets. However, this was the capitol, and no secret stayed so for long in Polis.

Lexa spent several fretful moments wondering what Clarke would make of their relationship being public knowledge, then shook herself free of her pointless musings. Speculating over things which could not possibly be known was simply a waste of energy. When she saw her next, they would discuss how they would handle things going forward, together.

A familiar presence moved beside her, coming to rest a respectful distance at her elbow, the formal cowl and robes of his station swirling around him. She did not acknowledge his presence, knowing that he would speak when he was ready, just as he knew that she would listen. Despite their recent disagreements, Titus was her oldest and most trusted advisor, as well as her _Fleimkepa_. A relationship built over a lifetime was not so easily thrown aside.

“ _Aden continues to impress, Heda_ ,” he said in _Trigedasleng_ , finally breaking the silence.

She glanced over at him, gauging his expression. Lexa was not naïve. She knew he had chosen to start the conversation with a discussion about Aden because he was well aware that the boy was her favorite. He wished to draw her out and make her comfortable before raising the topic he truly wished to discuss. She never had enjoyed these types of games, but it was Titus himself who had helped to instruct her in them, and she had always been an excellent student.

“He does,” she agreed shortly, already weary of this conversation, wishing he would just get straight to the real reason he had sought her out and then leave her to her own thoughts.

 _Or perhaps_ , she chided herself internally, _you are merely annoyed by anyone today who distracts you from your thoughts of Clarke, as though you are no better than a stupid, lovesick youth in need of a good smack to the head, as well as a reminder that the real world cares nothing for your happiness._

“His fighting abilities continue to far exceed the others,” Titus informed her, switching languages as well, as to do otherwise would have implied disrespect. “Even Godan has noticed this. He recommends that we allow Aden to begin training with the _Natgonas_ and their seconds, or he warns he will never truly reach his full potential.”

The _Natgonas_ were her personal guard, their warriors drawn from among the most trustworthy of the clans of the _Kongeda_ and chosen for their personal loyalty to the Commander. There had been _Natgonas_ since the time of the first Commander of the Blood, however, Lexa had found need to greatly expand their ranks during the building of the Coalition. They were now a small army unto themselves, with _Godan kom Sankru_ acting as their current chief, having replaced Gustus after the man’s execution at her hands months before. Godan was a formidable fighter and an intelligent man, and he and his warriors often assisted with the training of her novitiates in addition to their usual duties, as well as giving herself skilled opponents to spar and train with from time to time.

“If they will have him, then by all means, let the boy train. However, you and I both know, Titus, that the biggest threat he may someday face will not be in physical battle. Let him train with the _Natgonas_ , but increase his training with you as well. Both will be needed if he is to survive Conclave.”

Lexa felt a chill pass over her even as she spoke the words, and her right hand tightened its grip unconsciously on the hilt of her sword. This was why she should not permit herself to feel the undue affection, the useless attachment that she felt for Aden. He was no longer just a small blond child squatting at her feet, eagerly listening to her words along with the other Nightbloods. He was quickly growing into a man before her eyes, and someday in the future he would not only need to try to take her place, but would now also be required to best Ontari in the process. She did not know much of the young _Azgeda_ woman, had not even known of her existence until Queen Nia revealed her to them after the summit, but she was most certainly quite lethal, and her mere existence added an element of unpredictability that set Lexa’s teeth on edge. However, lacking the knowledge and specialized training a _Natblida_ usually received, it was certainly not impossible for Aden to best her, younger though he was. At least, Lexa could only pray that was the case. Ontari surely felt no loyalty to her personally, or her legacy, and the damage she could do if she came into Lexa’s power and position was sobering to contemplate.

“It is true, the threats are real and many,” Titus agreed. “We must do the best we can to prepare him.”

Another silence descended upon them, and Lexa cast a glance sideways, knowing he was gathering himself for whatever it was he truly wanted to discuss.

“What is it, Titus? Come, speak,” she finally commanded, her voice revealing her impatience. The man stepped closer beside her, his usually stoic face giving way to an almost anxious, pained expression, his hands clasped respectfully before him and voice low to avoid being overheard.

“You speak of threats, _Heda_ , but I do not think you realize just how close we come to disaster. This peace with the _Skaikru,_ despite their attacks, despite the danger their technology poses, is extremely unwise. They cannot be contained as the Mountain Men were. To make matters worse, there is also your insistence on allowing _Wanheda’s_ freedom in the capitol, allowing her to continue to speak in council when her people have proven themselves enemies. It is folly, _Heda_!”

“Careful, Titus,” she hissed, eyes flashing at his mention of Clarke, “You are on dangerous ground.”

Titus glanced down sharply, avoiding her glare, his own temper clearly rising as he first swallowed his words, then gathered himself to continue once more in a more conciliatory tone.

“Continued peace with the Sky People is not possible, and it does not help us achieve our goal. Surely you see that _Wanheda_ is manipulating you for the benefit of her people? Why do you continue to ignore the dangers that threaten everything we have worked…?”

“I ignore _nothing_! Nor do you in your shortsightedness even _begin_ to understand my true goal here,” she interrupted him, her voice a snarl and teeth slightly bared, the activity around them pausing as the people nearby registered the Commander’s sudden anger. Lexa forced herself to take a calming breath and settle her hands behind her back, the move forcing her to release her grip on her sword’s hilt. This, of all days, was not the day for anyone to threaten Clarke in her presence. The protectiveness she felt was irrational and mostly unnecessary. Clarke could more than take care of herself, and Titus would not dare move against her openly.

He waited for her to calm, his stubbornness equal to her own. He respected and cared for her, but he did not fear her as many of the others did. It meant that she could not bully him into seeing things her way unless he truly did agree. This was a quality about him she normally appreciated, and was why she had always so greatly valued his council, but her patience with his never ending call for war was running thin.

“The threat is greater than you know. I have come across new information which changes everything,” Titus informed her in an even tone, once the eyes of the onlookers had turned away and training resumed around them.

She turned to him, her anger giving way to concern at his words.

“What are you talking about, Titus?” she asked, stepping closer to him, her eyes focused and alert at the mention of new dangers.

“You _know_ of what I speak, _Heda_ ,” he insisted, and she felt a shiver travel down her spine at his words. “We both know it was only a matter of time before it came for the technology _Skaikru_ possesses… But we must not speak here. There are too many eyes that watch and ears that listen. I have a man in the tower that you must meet. He will prove the truth of what I say even if you do not believe my words.”

She stepped back at the conclusion of his speech and looked away, her gaze flying out over what could be seen of the expanse of the city before her. Thousands of people called Polis home, and thousands more lived within close proximity of the capitol in scattered villages along its edge. All of them looked to her for their protection, for justice, for a better future. Lexa felt the weight of all those souls upon her young shoulders suddenly, the iron in her spine not allowing her to bend or break, even in moments when she especially felt the burden as she did now. In the distance, a storm rolled towards Polis, traces of lightning already seen in its blackness, the towering clouds bringing an early sunset to her city.

She turned back to Titus.

“Take me to this man.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

Aden unclipped the armored vest he wore and sighed as the cool evening air hit his overheated skin. The other Nightbloods scurried around him where he sat, stacking weapons and gathering themselves to leave for the day. The sun was only an hour from setting and a storm was on its way, which meant their day’s training was complete. Soon they would return to the tower and gather in the great hall for the evening’s meal, and Aden hoped he would have time beforehand to wash the sweat from his skin and hair, his body pleasantly sore from the martial exercises of the past hours.

Pulling himself upright, he went to help one of the others load the small cart they would soon use to pull their training supplies back with them, noticing as he did that the Commander was already gathering her two guards and moving to depart. She turned his way briefly as he watched, their eyes meeting for a moment as she noticed him watching her. She held his gaze for several long seconds, face empty of expression, before turning and nodding once to her guards, the three figures quickly disappearing beneath the trees.

Aden sighed, turning back to his task, then startled when a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Aden,” Titus intoned, and the boy turned quickly to give the _Fleimkepa_ the appropriate respectful bow, hands clasped before him as he bent his head slightly.

“ _Sha, Fleimkepa?_ ”

“ _Heda_ is pleased with your performance today,” the older man informed him, and Aden felt his face flush at the praise from her, even delivered secondhand as it was. “Godan has requested that you begin training with the _Natgonas,_ and she has given her approval. You will start with them immediately. Beginning tomorrow, you will no longer spar with the other _Natblidas_ , but will instead report directly to Godan at their training grounds in the city.”

Aden bowed in acknowledgement of the command, excitement and pride filling him at the prospect. The _Natgonas_ were superior warriors, and only the most promising young men and women were chosen to join their ranks and train as seconds. Aden knew this was both an honor and an opportunity for him to further excel, and he vowed not to disappoint _Heda Leksa_ while amongst her best warriors.

“Also, we will be increasing your training with me from now on as well, starting this very evening. Go directly to the Chamber when you return and wait for me there. One missed meal will not greatly harm you, I believe. I have several things to take care of first, but then I shall meet you there and we will begin.”

“ _Sha, Fleimkepa_ ,” Aden agreed, though his stomach rumbled painfully at the knowledge that he would be skipping a meal. It seemed as though he was always hungry now, his growing body constantly in search of food, and the prospect of not eating until the morning was not a pleasant one for the boy. But pride in the knowledge that he was being singled out for further training quickly silenced any true regret he might feel.

Titus left him then, his robed form hurrying off in the direction the Commander had taken, and Aden turned back to the others, setting his hands to one of the cart’s handles and helping to push it into motion. He was exhausted, tired and dirty, but the boy smiled in anticipation of the training to come.

He was the best of the Nightbloods, and he would not fail.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

The elevator creaked and groaned around them as it came to a shuddering stop, the lift’s attendants stepping forward immediately to unhinge the large metal doors and slide them open before her. Titus was waiting for them in the gloomy corridor beyond, his figure revealed by the lit torches on either wall, their unsteady light causing his shadows to jump and dance around him. He had rejoined her briefly on her way back to the tower, but they had parted upon their return. She had needed to refresh herself after the days training and attend to several minor matters, and he had needed time to prepare his “guest” for her presence. The floor they currently stood on was one of the less used levels in the tower, and was mostly spare and unremarkable, filled with forgotten dust and rotting walls. Its few intact rooms were unadorned and used mostly for storage, however, the smallest and sturdiest of them had been fitted with bars and restraints, and provided an adequate place to hold a single prisoner. Especially one who possessed dangerous secrets, and whom it was therefore best to keep separate from others.

Lexa stepped forward to join her advisor, her two guards falling in behind and to either side of her. She did not normally require her guards to accompany her wherever she went in her own home, detesting the idea that her people might think she feared attack in her own stronghold, but their earlier talk of unseen threats now had her on edge. She would not be capable of relaxing until she knew exactly who it was Titus was holding, and what information he had to share.

Titus glanced at her guards, perhaps surprised by their presence, then bowed to her perfunctorily before turning and beckoning her to follow.

“This way, _Heda_.”

As they approached the small prison room, Lexa beckoned for her guards to stay behind, wary of them overhearing the conversation about to take place. They remained within eyesight, however, and could easily be called to her side if needed, though she doubted the imprisoned man could pose a threat to her physically.

Titus unlatched the door and thrust his torch into the room, the light revealing a half-naked man chained to a single chair in its center, his chest and face bloody and scabbed, watery eyes blinking against the sudden brightness. Lexa stood in the entrance, taking in the scene dispassionately, her penetrating eyes traveling over the prisoner and assessing what she saw before her.

After a long moment, she turned to Titus, her voice dangerous and unforgiving.

“He is _Skaikru_?” she asked coldly, though it was more accusation than question. He was bloody and scarred, and covered in a week’s worth of filth, but it was obvious that he lacked the clan affiliation tattoos that a person his age should wear. It was also clear that he was not mutated or deformed, so he was almost certainly not an Outcast, driven from his clan before he came of age for markings. That left only one clear option that would explain Titus’ interest in him.

“He is. However, he has not been with them for some time, it seems. He was caught thieving and attacking travelers in the Great Wood. It appears he was in the company of an Outcast scavenger, a woman with a clawed hand, though she was not caught with him. She is known to us, that one. She and her brother, another Outcast, are thieves, killers, and are known to target technology. Doubtless the siblings are both agents of the entity.”

“So he is a thief,” she stated, “Explain to me what he is doing _here_.”

“He is here, _Heda_ , because when he was captured he was found with this,” Titus answered her, holding up something small before her in the dim light. Lexa squinted then stepped closer, struggling to make out what it was he was showing her.

“The symbol!” she breathed, unable to conceal her surprise at the sight. She glanced to Titus’ face, seeing his nod, then turned her regard back to the item he held.

“Where did he come by it?”

“Yes, that is the very question I asked first as well, but the boy is stubborn, and surprisingly strong willed. He did not want to answer my questions. I was forced to be less than gentle with him, but earlier today he finally spoke truth instead of only half-truths and lies. I have already confirmed some of his story from other witnesses, though I don’t doubt he holds back much even now.”

Lexa watched the eyes of the man before her, seeing the hatred and fear in them as they focused on her advisor. Titus had likely done much to deserve that hate. She did not have any illusions about the lengths her advisor would go to get the answers he needed, and she did not usually judge him harshly for it. It was their way, and she had used these very methods herself more than once during the many years of conflict. But she did not enjoy this type of bloodshed, needless of how necessary it may be, and as ever, the tortured sight before her was unpleasant to contemplate.

The damage was done, however. Now she must try to make some use of it.

Lexa stepped forward to the pitiful figure, blocking Titus from his sight and drawing his eyes to meet her own.

“Tell me,” she commanded, and he did.

His story was disjointed, delivered in halting fragments, though she wasn’t sure if this was done intentionally to confuse her, or if the man had simply begun to crack from exhaustion and fear. He had left Arkadia months before with many others. They had traveled across the northern wastes, searching for the City of Light. Many died. In the end, only he and one other remained, discovering a mysterious island, where he had become trapped for many weeks. Upon gaining his freedom, he had sought to return to his people. He didn’t know what the symbol meant, but he felt his companion did. The other man, named Jaha, had been the leader of his people before they came to the ground. They had become separated. He didn’t know where Jaha was now.

She regarded him silently for several moments once he finished speaking, his eyes bright with something that was almost madness. It was strange, though, because she suddenly felt as though this broken man before her was more sane than anyone she had ever met. He probably wished for madness. Longed for the sweet release that it would bring. But even she could see that his destiny was a long and twisting thing, filled with dark paths and mysterious roads, and he would not escape it so easily. She felt pity for him then, though she knew he would likely spit on the sentiment.

“Is there anything else he did not share?” she asked, directing her question at Titus. Her advisor shook his head, eyes gleaming in the near darkness.

 _Good,_ she thought, _then I can end this now._

She called for her guards and their forms appeared in the doorway moments later. Ignoring Titus’ confused glance, she issued her next orders to them in a voice that was not to be disobeyed.

“You,” she said to the first, “Go and fetch a healer and some servants and bring them here. This man is to be cleaned up and his wounds cared for, then moved to a secure guest room on another level. He is to be guarded at all times, but treated with respect. Do not let him out of your sight.” She turned to the other guard. “You, go directly to _Wanheda_ and inform her that a member of her clan is being held here, and that she may see him once he has been properly tended to.”

Both men quickly bowed and left to carry out her commands, the heavy sounds of their footsteps quickly disappearing down the hall.

“ _Heda_!” Titus exclaimed, “This is incredibly unwise! Now is not the time to concern ourselves with placating the _Skaikru_ ambassador. The secrets this man holds, whether he understands them or not, are extremely dangerous. We cannot afford to allow him to come in contact with anyone that can’t be trusted!”

“And _you_ cannot afford to continue to defy me, Titus!” Lexa roared in response, not missing the smirk of satisfaction her words created on the face of the prisoner. Ignoring him, she stepped out into the hallway, her cloak flowing behind her as she moved swiftly down the corridor, knowing Titus was following in her wake. When they reached a sufficient distance to no longer be overheard, she turned to face him, her expression thunderous.

“You have kept a man prisoner within _my halls_ without my knowledge. You have spent days beating and torturing a member of _Skaikru_ for information about the sacred symbol he carries, when you should have brought the matter to me _immediately_. Did it not occur to you that the boy might have told us everything we needed to know _days_ ago, had you not simply asked Clarke to speak with him first?!... Explain yourself, Titus!”

The man blanched in the face of her rage, though his own anger soon overcame his caution.

“ _Clarke_ ,” he snarled, his disdain for her suddenly apparent, twisting his features into an ugly mask, “cannot _possibly_ be trusted with the secrets of the Blood. She may be playing with _your_ emotions, _Heda_ , but _I_ will not so easily forget my true duty as _you_ have done!”

“I am more than _capable_ of separating my feelings from my _duty_!” Lexa shouted, the explosion of emotion she felt at his accusations tearing the response out of her, the words echoing mockingly off the cement walls around them. They glared at each other, each seething with anger, the following silence heavy and claustrophobic. His angry face soon melted into a weary expression, the disappointment he felt in her taking over his features, aging him before her very eyes. Lexa felt a sort of wary dread at this, at the sense of resignation she felt in him then, for reasons she couldn’t clearly define. Titus seemed to gather himself, as though preparing for one last battle, his expression grave and pale in the dim light.

“Setting my methods aside, we both know what his story means. The entity is circling, _Heda_. Its agents are already on the move. It is likely that this man, Jaha, has already reached Arkadia. Soon, if not already, he will have full access to the technology they possess.”

He stepped closer, his eyes beseeching on hers, his tone as close to begging as she had ever heard.

“We cannot afford to wait any longer. Arkadia, and all of the people within its walls, _must_ be destroyed. If not, then we will surely all be doomed.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

Clarke blew softly over the piece of parchment she held in her hands, clearing away the graphite dust still clinging to the finished drawing, regarding it critically for a moment before setting it aside with the others. There were several drawings scattered around her where she sat on the floor, all the product of the last several hours work, and each sketching a different scene of everyday life in Polis. She was amazed at how relaxing it had been to lose herself in the simple activity once more. Clarke had returned to her own rooms early that afternoon upon discovering that Lexa was still busy elsewhere, and after eating a simple and solitary meal, had finally made proper use of the papers and pencils that the other woman had gifted to her a week earlier.

She leaned backwards into a lazy stretch, feeling her spine crack and her knees pop as she straightened her hunched limbs. She hadn’t seen Lexa since that morning, and a sense of warm anticipation was beginning to build all throughout her body at the thought of being reunited with her soon. Surely Lexa would not be busy for much longer? The storm had finally reached Polis, and most of the city’s residents were now hunkered down in their rooms and homes, focused more on staying warm and dry than on making politics and war. Clarke eyed the thick drapes which covered her single window, not confident they were up to the task of keeping out the driving rain. It was incredibly inconvenient that the Grounders had not yet relearned how to make glass and proper windows. No doubt her room would be sporting the unpleasant addition of a very large puddle before the night was through.

The loud knocking on her door startled her, and was swiftly followed by an even louder rumble of thunder from the breaking storm outside. She rose quickly and hurried the few steps required to reach the door, her pulse racing at the hope that it might be Lexa on the other side.

No such luck. The broad and ruddy face of a guard met her, his looming presence and expressionless face quickly shattering the pleasant atmosphere she had just been enjoying.

“ _Wanheda_ ,” he greeted her, promptly relaying the message the Commander had instructed him to give without embellishment or emotion. Clarke felt her body and mind come fully awake as he spoke, as though the last few relaxing hours – which she had spent simply drawing and thinking about Lexa, not worrying about the future of her people, but instead reliving every kiss and touch, every sigh and gasp of pleasure they had shared – had been nothing but a waking dream. She knew this was the way it was always going to be. They both had responsibilities to their people, and their time would never truly be only their own. However, that knowledge hadn’t stopped her from selfishly hoping that for just one day, at least, she could indulge herself in doing nothing more complicated than reveling in these new feelings she shared with Lexa.

“A Sky Person is here, right now? Why? Who is he?” she asked, confused by the sparseness of the message. “And what do you mean, I can’t see him until he has been tended to? What’s wrong with him?”

“I do not know why the man is here, _Wanheda_ , nor do I know his name. I was only told to deliver this message,” the man rumbled in reply, clearly not thrilled to be answering her questions. “He was injured. A healer has been sent for him.”

She stiffened at the news, her imagination already providing her with various explanations for the presence of someone from Arkadia, none of them good. She needed to see him for herself, to find out what this meant and why he was here, as well as who he was. Turning, she quickly gathered up some supplies and slipped into her boots, fastening them hastily. The guard watched her in growing alarm, no doubt anticipating her next words.

“Take me to him,” she ordered, coming to stand before him, a leather satchel filled with medical supplies slung over her right shoulder.

“As I said, he is being seen by a healer and will soon be moved to a different room. You will be taken to him then, as _Heda_ has ordered,” the guard replied.

“No, you will take me to him now. I _am_ a healer, and he is one of my people. I will see to him myself,” she insisted. If he was from the Ark, it was more than possible the injured man was someone she knew, or could even be a close friend. As angry as many of the Grounders were over the massacre and other attacks, she didn’t trust anyone but herself to take care of him. Lexa might order him to be healed and properly cared for, but that didn’t actually mean a reluctant healer would truly put forth their best efforts. She watched the guard war with himself, measuring the risk of defying her against the possibility of perhaps displeasing his Commander, seeing the resignation in his eyes when he decided not to argue.

“ _Sha, Wanheda_. Follow me. If you must see him now, then we must go a great ways down,” he said, heading in the direction of the large, man-powered elevator that served as the principal and fastest form of transportation up and down the tower. There were various stairs, ropes and ladders that could be used as well, but they formed a slow and winding route, and were not best when needing to descend or rise many floors.

Clarke released the breath she had been holding as soon as his back was turned, then hurried to follow after him. Although she was pleased she wasn’t going to have to attempt climbing with her medical bag swinging awkwardly at her hip, she also disliked trusting her life to the ancient lift, and had yet to feel fully comfortable using it. The Grounders might hail the dangerous monstrosity as a major engineering achievement, but quite frankly, Clarke was always just happy to get out of the damn thing before plummeting to an early grave. It was worth it if it got her there faster, however, as she was anxious to learn what was truly going on.

_Lexa better have a damn good explanation for this._

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

“Enough of this Titus,” Lexa demanded, prowling past her advisor, her chin held high in regal defiance, “I have given you my answer, and the answer is no. We will not attack Arkadia. We _will_ find a way to deal with this threat without committing genocide. I have listened to your reasons, and there are now no more arguments left for you to make. It is _done_.”

They had been arguing for the past few minutes, and Lexa had begun pacing up and down the hallway in agitation as she sharply countered each of his arguments and reasons, her ire rising with each passing moment. Each time Titus demanded that she cleanse the earth of Sky People, and each time she denied him. At last, her most recent answer seemed to cast the man into a sullen, stony silence, his face as rigid and cold as ice, eyes distant and unfocused. Finally, he seemed to come back to himself, face softening, eyes regarding her with sadness instead of the earlier anger. The disappointment she saw there was difficult to bear, she admitted, but it was made easier by the fact that she was certain of the rightness of what she was doing. Certain of her vision for a better, more peaceful world. She wished he could find it within himself to have faith in her goal, and to support her in it as Clarke did.

She crossed over to him, placing a hand on his robe covered arm, her own tone softening as some of the anger left her.

“Please, old friend, let’s not continue to argue. It grows late, and the guard should be returning soon with the healers. I will have the prisoner kept isolated and with guards at all times so nothing he knows is learned by the wrong people. In the morning, we will work on finding a way to protect our people from this new threat, together.”

He met her eyes at her words, nodding his head once before giving a slow, deep bow.

“As you command, _Heda_.”

She smiled slightly at his gesture and removed her hand. Turning, she headed back down the hall to the room where the prisoner was still sitting in chains, coming to stand in the doorway so that she could look in on him, Titus’ torch still burning on the wall sconce where he had placed it earlier. Now that their argument was over, and it appeared Titus had finally accepted that she would not agree to war, she could focus on trying to figure out how she was possibly going to explain to Clarke what was going on with…

She heard a sound behind her, a strange, dry clicking noise. The prisoner flinched upright in his chair at the sound, his eyes widening and staring behind her. The hairs on the back of her neck began to rise, and frowning, hand reaching by instinct to grasp the hilt of the knife strapped to her thigh, Lexa began to turn.

“ _I am sorry,_ _Leksa_ ,” she heard Titus say from somewhere behind her, then all thoughts of him disappeared as a roaring sound like thunder filled her ears, a flash of light accompanying it that was so bright in the surrounding gloom that is stunned her, blinding her eyes. She felt something punch her between the shoulders. Felt her breath leave her in a forced exhalation. Lexa shook her head, dazed by the light and the noise. What was this? Why couldn’t she catch her breath? She reached for her chest with one hand and was instantly stunned by the pain which suddenly blossomed through her at the movement, consuming her from the center of her chest and spreading outwards like an ugly flower.

Lexa stumbled, right shoulder hitting the side of the doorframe, feeling herself slide down it and to her knees on the floor, her initial confusion now turning to horror as the reality of the pain rushed through her. The prisoner in his chair was straining against his bonds in confusion and alarm, his eyes wide and panicked, body contorting like a trapped animal.

“ _Holy shit_ , you just fucking _shot_ her, man!” he was shouting, “What’s _wrong_ with you?!”

Lexa tried to focus, tried to breathe through the pain, but her breathes came up short, and a horrible weight was beginning to settle over her chest. Gasping, she struggled to lift herself up from her huddled position against the doorframe, some animal instinct in her driving her to rise, to get to her feet, to turn and face whatever had attacked her. Halfway through the intended movement, however, the strength abruptly left her legs and Lexa collapsed again, her crumpled form now mostly blocking the doorway of the cell. The shock of hitting the ground caused another explosion of fire throughout her chest and back, and the strangled gasps which now escaped her lips were growing wet with dark blood.

Gathering herself, straining to think clearly and not panic despite the crushing fear and pain she was feeling, Lexa pulled on some hidden reserve of strength deep within her body and managed to roll herself partway onto her left side, her surprisingly clear eyes seeking out the hidden threat which had somehow managed to wound her so gravely.

Titus stood before her, his arm still outstretched, pale fingers clenched around a dark silhouette that gleamed maliciously in the fluttering torchlight. His cold eyes met hers, fathomless and unknowable, face as implacable as an old and pitiless god whose task it was to judge the living. The terrible knowledge crashed through her then, the true face of the man who had stood close by her side for all these years revealed at last, and Lexa’s soul raged in the sudden and desperate realization that she… had failed.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

John Murphy was no stranger to death. He had seen plenty of it, had caused some of it, and had lived in terror of it for as long as he could remember. On the Ark, when his father would begin beating him over and over, the strikes of his fists hammering a steady, terrifyingly precise and unchanging rhythm against his flesh, Murphy learned the lesson of his own mortality. It was painted in red on his skin, mapped in purple bruises and sculpted in scars, a violent portrait of death that he knew he would never be able to escape.

Everyone dies. Some die sooner than others. If you’re lucky, you get to have a bit of a good time before it’s your turn to go.

Murphy watched as the bald son-of-a-bitch who had kept him captive for the last who-knew-how-many days, Titus, lowered his pistol and stepped towards the woman he had just fatally shot in the back. Pausing for a moment to stare down at her, he then knelt at her side, placing a hand on her heaving chest and saying something to her in low tones in the Grounder language. Not for the first time, Murphy wished he could understand their words, though he doubted whatever cruel final insult the sick bastard was saying to her was worth listening to. Whatever it was he said, it managed to get a response out of the dying warrior, as her right hand abruptly shot up with surprising speed to clutch at the folds of his robes, her fingers reaching for his throat, no doubt wishing to strangle him and take him with her to the underworld. It was a useless gesture, however. She was too weak to put any real force into the move, and Titus simply reached up and unwrapped her clenching fingers, cradling her hand for a moment in what was a surprisingly tender gesture before standing up and out of her reach.

That was a surprise. He had expected Titus to finish the job. To strangle her, or bash her head in until she stopped breathing completely. Why leave her there to slowly die of a painful gunshot wound when he obviously wanted her dead? It seemed needlessly cruel, but then, after everything Titus had done to him over the past few days, he should expect cruelty from him.

Titus stepped over her sprawled form and strode quickly into the cell, and sudden fear for his own life drove all other thoughts from Murphy’s mind. The pistol came up again, this time pointed at Murphy’s head, and his whole body clenched and trembled with the force of his absolute terror.

This was it. He was going to die. That was the Commander of the Grounders lying on the floor, and this man had just killed her… or close enough. Someone was going to want to find the person responsible, and Murphy had watched him do it. Titus was surely going to kill him, ensuring his silence forever.

“If you want to live past the next five minutes, then do exactly as I say,” Titus told him quickly, his voice ringing with impatience.

“Wait, what?” Murphy croaked, mind reeling with the sudden hope that he might live for at least a bit longer, “I don’t understand. Why are you doing this?”

“Shut up, and do what I tell you, and you might just survive to see daylight. Do anything else, and I will kill you,” he repeated, waiting for Murphy to nod in agreement before lowering the gun, then bending quickly to release his bonds.

“Get up,” he ordered, and Murphy stumbled to his feet, nearly falling at the wave of dizziness that overcame him. He didn’t know how long he had been a captive, but it had felt like many days, and on top of the torture and questioning, he had also been mostly starved and denied all but small amounts of water. He was exhausted to the point of confusion, and his normally sharp mind struggled to keep up with what was happening around him.

“Go. That way, quickly!” Titus prompted, gesturing towards the door with the gun he still held, keeping it pointed towards Murphy in an obvious threat. Not needing any further incentive, he crossed to leave the cell, forced in doing so to step over the body of the dying woman. As he did, he couldn’t help but look down at her, and the sight made him freeze. She was staring up at him, her eyes alarmingly alert and penetrating despite her wounds, no hint of delirium in them as he would have expected. She was beautiful, he realized, and younger than he had previously thought, pity for her rising in him despite himself. The bullet had clearly damaged her lungs judging from her rattling breaths, and a large blood stain was becoming visible even against the darkness of her impressive outfit. A thick, black substance trailed from the corner of her lips, more of it bubbling forth with every labored breath she took.

“What the hell? What _is_ that?” he couldn’t help but exclaim, startled by the unusual sight of the black blood.

“Move, now!” Titus growled behind him, and Murphy pulled his eyes away, taking several quick steps into the hallway.

“To the left, down the hall. Quickly!” the Commander’s murderer said, and Murphy jumped to obey. They traveled down several twisting halls, ducking through side rooms and passages, Titus snarling at him the whole way to go faster, _hurry_ , this way boy, _now_! Do you _want_ to live or not? Within only a minute or two they came to a large room half filled with sacks and crates, various supplies stacked in a disorganized fashion against the farthest wall. It was clearly a storage room of some kind, and judging by the thick layer of dust coating everything, one not often used. Murphy staggered into the center of the room and turned to look at the older man, certain they had taken a wrong turn.

But Titus was moving, crossing the room in impatient strides, shoving aside a crate to reach the wall behind it. Wedging his lit torch upright between some debris, the older man used his free hand to yank at a square metal panel about four feet in diameter, pulling the thin hunk of metal free from the wall. Behind it, dangling still and straight in the blackness of an abandoned shaft, hung a thick, corded rope.

Titus stepped back, lifted his gun to Murphy’s head, and pointed with his free hand.

“Climb.”

Murphy gaped at him, his chest heaving from the exertion of racing through the halls moments before, his limbs already tingling with exhaustion from his prolonged captivity. What was this? Was this a way out, an escape? With the condition he was in, there was no way he would be able to climb up the rope for very far.

“I don’t understand,” he said, his tired mind struggling to make sense of everything that was happening, “Climb to where? Where does it go?”

“Down, it goes down. Four levels, then a ladder to the basement. Now, get on the rope. _Move_!”

Murphy did as he said, his thoughts racing and confused. Crawling awkwardly into the hole in the wall, he first wrapped his legs around the rope before leaning forward to clutch it with both arms. Hanging suspended in space over a well of blackness, his limbs almost immediately began to shake with fatigue.

“What’s in the basement?” he asked, stupidly, disgusted with the fearful waver of his voice.

“Tunnels. If you are _very_ lucky, they will take you out of the city. If not, you will get lost and die of starvation before you find a way out… Now, down.”

The man’s voice was ice, and hanging for dear life, the mouth of the pistol staring back at him and a dark abyss below, Murphy felt his helplessness as never before. This was insane. Too much was happening too quickly, and he was so, so tired. None of this made any sense. He knew there had to be a reason why Titus was helping him escape, but his stressed mind wasn’t providing the answers. Timidly at first, then with increased speed as he gained confidence, Murphy began sliding and shuffling down the rope, descending into near perfect darkness. He had made it perhaps ten feet when something hard and dense smacked against his shoulder, bouncing off and tumbling down the shaft, clattering as it hit things on the way. He cursed in surprise, wondering what Titus had thrown in after him as he glared up towards the opening where some light from the torch still glowed. However, he did so only just in time to see the light wink out as Titus slammed shut the metal covering, encasing him in pitch blackness. Confused, arms and legs trembling, knowing he was not capable of climbing back up even if he had wanted to, Murphy continued his sliding descent down the shaft.

 _Four floors, ladder, basement, tunnels_ , he thought to himself, his mind repeating the escape plan like a mantra as he climbed.

When Murphy’s feet finally touched the refuse littered concrete at the bottom of the shaft, he immediately crouched, and with blind hands sought out and found the object which had come to rest there. He stood, holding it in his hand, breath freezing in his lungs at his realization of the naked, inevitable truth. After a moment spent appreciating the irony, the pure cosmic improbability of it all, he finally released the incredulous laughter that could no longer be contained within him, the sound echoing back around him like a chorus of heckling demons.

There, in his hands, John Murphy’s fingers curled around the familiar and mocking shape of an automatic pistol. He was, once again, soon to take the blame for a murder he _didn’t_ commit.

_Well… fuck. I really, really should have known…_

_\----------------------------------------------------------------------_

The lift, its ancient cables straining and clattering, came to a lumbering stop with a loud metallic groan that Clarke felt all the way through her bones. She grimaced, impatient for the attendants to open its large doors and set her free from this metal death trap. Moments later her wish came true, as the doors slid open to reveal a surprisingly dark corridor beyond. Clarke made to step forward but then paused, frowning.

“Are you sure this is the right floor?” she asked the guard next to her, trying not to reveal her impatience. She must not have succeeded, as the two lift attendants shared an anxious glance, perhaps worried that the Commander of Death might find reason to blame them for a perceived mistake.

“This is the fourth floor, _Wanheda_ ,” one of them hurried to reassure her. The guard beside her nodded in agreement, but his eyes continued to search the unusually dark hallway beyond with confusion equal to hers.

“Well, then… Did we miss them, do you think? Have they already moved him to a different floor?” she asked. She was looking at the guard as she did so, but it was the talkative attendant who again answered her first.

“We have not been back to this level since bringing him up to you, _Wanheda_ ,” he informed her, referring to the guard.

“Perhaps they didn’t take the lift,” the guard suggested cautiously, but Clarke could hear the hint of uncertainty in his voice.

“Do you smell that?” she asked suddenly, recognizing the scent which had tickled her nose when the doors first opened. The smell made her anxious, though she couldn’t decide why, as it was hardly unusual in a culture that eschewed technology.

“Smoke,” he agreed, taking a long sniff.

Clarke felt her anxiety building despite herself, her mind refusing to let this detail go. Smoke, why would there be smoke? Most of the tower’s more populated areas used candles for light, though torches were also frequently used. However, the torches made for use in the tower were coated in a special resin which burned surprisingly bright and clean, and they almost never produced much noticeable smoke while lit, though they did smolder for a bit right after being put out…

 _After being put out_. _Of course!_

“The torches!” she said, turning to the guard, the quiet look of alarm building on his face telling her that he had also reached the same realization she had.

“Someone has put them all out, recently,” he agreed, his voice low and intense, hands tightening around his spear.

“Something isn’t right,” she told him, bending to pick up one of the candle lanterns used to light the inside of the lift.

“Which way is it?” she asked, wasting no time in exiting the lift, the guard quickly brushing past her to lead the way, leaving the two attendants behind to stare at each other in consternation. She felt their rising, shared urgency as they hurried down the dark hallways together, her lantern casting a perfect circle of light around them. They passed several torches as they went, and each looked as though it had been hastily pulled down and snuffed out. Clarke tried to tell herself that the fear she was feeling was irrational. That a few extinguished torches didn’t really mean anything, but she couldn’t keep the worry at bay. When the guard had left a short time ago, Lexa had been here, on this level, and Clarke’s instincts were screaming at her that something was seriously wrong.

At last, after what felt like ages but was almost certainly only a minute or two, they turned a final corner and the guard breathed out in relief.

“There, the open doorway ahead. The prisoner was there.”

Clarke could just see the edges of the open door further down the hall, the light just touching it as they approached with the lantern. It wasn’t until they were only a few feet away that she saw it, a dark shape sprawled awkwardly between the doorframe, and a strangled gasp escaped her as recognized Lexa’s pale, bloodied face.

“Oh my god, _Lexa!_ ”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

For what felt like a very long time, Lexa just focused on breathing.

In, out… In… out…

_Ugghhh, this hurts. This hurts. My chest… Can’t breathe… Why is this…? What’s happening? Did I pass out? Is that why it’s so dark?... No, don’t think about that, just breathe… In, out… In… out…_

She felt the blood slowly pooling around her, felt the drag of air through her tortured, broken lungs. Like it wasn’t air at all but a wood saw, tearing as it came and went. There was blood in her throat and mouth, she knew. It was slowly choking her. She had managed to pull herself further onto her side, after Titus and the prisoner had left her in darkness, and it was likely the only reason she was still alive, but the pressure around her lungs was still growing, each breath a greater struggle than the last.

_Half alive, at least… Dying… I am dying._

Lexa knew what dying felt like. She had felt the deaths of previous Commanders, had felt the same cold certainty entering her as her life’s last strength was drained away. She’d also seen warriors fallen in battle drown to death in their own blood. Now she was experiencing the agony of that end for herself.

_Clarke is going to be so angry with me for dying._

No, best not to think about Clarke. She needed to focus. Breathe. She needed to keep breathing. In, out… In… out…

“Oh my god, _Lexa!_ ” she heard suddenly, Clarke’s panicked voice right beside her, and her eyes flew open at the words, though she’d been unaware they had even been closed. The warm, comforting glow of a candle lantern wrapped around her, dazzling her eyes for only a moment, then she could see Clarke kneeling over her, the hulking shadow of one of her guards standing just behind her shoulder.

“Oh no… oh, no, no…. Lexa, what happened? No! Don’t try to talk, just stay still, okay? Lie still, don’t move.”

Clarke was hunched above her, the fear in her voice obvious as her hands moved over Lexa’s tortured form, unfastening her coat with racing fingers, then sliding underneath her back, finding the blood pooled there from the entrance wound between her shoulders. Lexa focused on her face, straining against the black edges of unconsciousness that she could see creeping into the corners of her vision.

“Oh god, where is all this blood coming from?! Help me get this coat off of her, I need to be able to see the wounds. It’s too thick to cut, we’ll just have to pull it off. Quick, hurry! Okay, yes, like that, good. Alright, now help me roll her back on her side… Yes, okay, now pull. Careful!...”

Lexa felt them moving her, not able to help the strangled moan that escaped her lips when they rolled her further on her side and worked to pull her one arm free of her coat. They sat her carefully back down onto her back and Clarke slid her coat off of her other arm, her face blanching in Lexa’s vision as she took in the true extent of her injuries for the first time.

“Oh my god, Lexa, you’ve been shot!” She almost sobbed the words, tears now beginning to fall freely from her eyes. Lexa wanted to say something, to reassure her somehow, but she was really having trouble breathing now, the pressure in her lungs building to excruciating levels, making it difficult to even think.

Clarke rubbed the tears away from her eyes angrily, her expression fierce and desperate as she reached for the bandages she had brought with her.

“It’s okay, Lexa, it’s going to be okay,” she was saying, her hands racing to press bandages to the wound on her right side from where the bullet had exited her body. “I can fix this… Oh god, I have to be able to fix this!”

As happens sometimes with gunshot wounds, the bullet hadn’t traveled in a straight line after entering her body, but had instead ricocheted after tearing through bones and tissue, puncturing her right lung cavity in the process. Clarke was trying to apply bandages to the exit wound, but there was already so much black blood caked and flowing there that they quickly became soaked and useless.

 _Clarke was such a fighter_ , she mused, her thoughts starting to go fuzzy and indistinct, sensation beginning to flee her body’s extremities.

She never gave up on anything, or anyone. Never quit trying and planning and striving, even when things seemed impossible, unsolvable.

_“Don’t worry, Clarke. Death is not the end,” she had told her, standing by her side in the cage as the Pauna raged outside, needing to at least try to give the other girl some small comfort in the face of death for reasons she was afraid to recognize in herself._

_“We are_ not _dying!” Clarke had shouted defiantly, her bravery and sheer stubbornness a marvelous thing to behold._

Is that when she had fallen for her, she wondered? Or had she already loved her even then, her fears of weakness and loss already stripped away in the face of all that was Clarke? Would she get to take this with her, her love for her, wherever she was going?

_“I need your spirit to stay where it is.”_

“Lexa… Lexa! No, no no no, come on, stay with me, wake up! Lexa...”

Clarke was crying, she realized, one hand still holding the wet bandages pressed to Lexa’s side as the other felt for her pulse at her neck. Lexa struggled to find and hold Clarke’s eyes, feeling as though she was looking down a long, dark tunnel. Her blue eyes were wide, shining with tears, and so beautiful. Miraculously, she felt the pain receding, felt her body relaxing as it was pushed away by a more powerful force.

_… I need you…._

“No, Lexa… _No_. You can’t do this to me… You _can’t_ die!” Clarke told her sternly, desperately, but Lexa could hear the knowledge in her voice. Could feel the way her healer’s hands had stilled against her, no longer pressing against her wounds, but instead holding, gripping her tightly, as though Clarke felt she could keep Lexa’s soul in her body by sheer force of will alone. Clarke brought her face to Lexa’s, kissing her cheeks, a few racking sobs escaping her as her tears splashed down across Lexa’s upturned face.

_…But you can’t fix this…_

“’S’okay… Clarke…” Lexa managed, using all the remaining strength and the last breath she possessed to whisper the words, feeling Clarke’s arms clench around her in response. Darkness loomed, full and heavy, and with her final thoughts on the woman she loved in her arms, Lexa let it pick her up and carry her away to a distant place.

_I’m sorry…_

_… May we meet again._

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

Lexa woke to darkness.


	3. Perchance to Dream

 

 _“To die, to sleep;_  
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;  
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come   
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,   
Must give us pause.”

**_\- Hamlet -_ **

****

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Lexa woke to darkness.

She gasped, chest heaving as she sucked in her first desperate breaths of stale dry air, limbs thrashing as sensation returned to her in a sudden wave. Her eyes blinked against the blackness, straining to find anything that could help her gain her bearings, seeing nothing but the spots which floated across her vision. She was standing, she realized, her body wedged awkwardly between hard surfaces all around her; a stiff, tangled webbing holding her upright and trapping her legs and left arm. Lexa’s free hand grasped awkwardly around her as she struggled to stave off the panic she was feeling, first tugging at the straps which held her fast, then sliding along the smooth, cool surface of the wall at her back. Blind, confused, she focused on taking long, even breaths, her mind working frantically to discern just where, exactly, she was… 

And, more importantly, how she had come to be there.

Lexa’s head felt fuzzy and strangely full, the beginnings of a severe headache making it feel as though her brain had been recently smashed and reformed like wet clay. The right side of her neck ached with a slight, sharp pain, and she reached up with her free hand to feel the tender skin, surprised when her fingers discovered something thin and hard protruding from the flesh of her neck. Her confusion mounted as she quickly realized what the object was. Grimacing, Lexa carefully pulled the needle of the medium sized syringe out of her neck, going slowly so as to avoid harming herself further. Holding it in her hand for a moment as she examined it with her fingers, she confirmed her fear that the plunger had already been fully depressed. Of course, whatever the syringe’s contents had been, she couldn’t do much about it now. She considered what to do with the thing before finally just letting it drop to the floor beside her where it struck with a sharp, metallic clatter.

 _Did someone drug me?_ She wondered, confounded as to how she had come to be in this strange, dark place with a used needle in her neck.  She tried to remember what had happened just before she lost consciousness, her mind strangely blank and uncooperative. Her inability to recall any recent memories was more disquieting than the situation itself. A sudden fear filled her as she considered the possibility that the drugs could have done something seriously harmful to her mind.

 _Calm down, Leksa_ , she told herself. _Think… What is the last thing you remember?_

…Clarke’s face filled her mind’s eye, her pale hair tousled across Lexa’s pillow, her blue eyes laughing back at her as Lexa placed teasing, lingering kisses against the skin of her bare stomach…

 _That’s right, I woke up with Clarke just this morning. We spent the night making love… She told me she had already forgiven me for betraying her_ , she recalled, the beautiful memories immediately soothing her like a healing balm to her soul, the rawness of it bringing happy tears to her blinded eyes. As long as she could remember her love for Clarke, for everything they had shared that day, then surely the rest would soon follow? Taking a steadying breath, Lexa focused on her feelings for the other woman, letting them fill her soul once more and wrap her heart in their protective armor. As long as she had this truth within her, this love for Clarke, she knew she could find her way through any possible hardship.

Tearing her thoughts away from the other woman despite the desire she felt to escape into them forever, Lexa focused on putting some order to her thoughts, her mind working to organize the events that had followed. She’d woken up with Clarke in her bed, it was true, but her responsibilities hadn’t allowed her to linger for long. Slowly at first, then with gaining speed, the events of the last day unfurled in her mind, each new memory bringing with it an increased sense of foreboding.

Training with the Nightbloods, arguing with Titus, then returning to the tower just as a storm began to cover the city in thick clouds and rain. The battered face of the prisoner, the young Skaikru man they had questioned, staring up at her as he told her strange tales of a mysterious island, a lighthouse bunker and a City of Light. Confronting Titus in the corridor afterwards, and the relief she had felt when he finally ceased in his objections and conceded the argument to her.

Pain. Endless pain exploding in her chest. It crippled her, bringing her down to her knees, uncaring of the fact that she was _Heda_ and bowed to no one. (No one besides the woman who possessed her heart, that is.) Titus standing over her, a weapon so heretical in his hands that she was amazed at the ability of the pious man to even hold it.

Clarke’s face above her, her tears on Lexa’s cheeks as she kissed her one last time and begged her not to die.

Die… _She had died…_ She remembered the coldness filling her body, Clarke’s vibrant face receding from her vision. Lexa sobbed, her body now shaking violently at the memories which, so unresponsive moments before when she had been striving uselessly to summon them, now couldn’t be stopped. They hammered through her, relentless and terrible, and Lexa didn’t even try to control the tears that now fell from her eyes as she again experienced the sensations and emotions of her recent death. The sheer agony of leaving Clarke, the woman she loved beyond all hope and reason, alone in the world again.

_Oh spirits, Clarke! I am so, so sorry…_

How could this be? How could she have allowed herself to be betrayed, _killed_ by the man who had been friend, teacher, and almost-father to her all in one? How had she possibly allowed herself to be taken from Clarke so soon after they had finally found one another, finally accepted the feelings they shared?... When there was _so_ _much_ at last for her to begin living for. So much yet to be done to keep her people and the woman she loved safe. Had _this_ , this abrupt and senseless end to all she had striven and sacrificed for, truly been her fate all along?

Lexa let herself cry for several painful minutes, alone in the strange darkness. Let herself feel the emotions unrestrained as they flowed through her. Let herself mourn her own death.

But wait… How _was_ this possible? If she had died and her spirit was now free, then should she not now be released from all suffering as the teachings promised, her spirit readying itself to help choose the new Commander? Perhaps she had not really died? Perhaps this was only yet another of many Trials, and she would soon open her eyes and stand up from her meditations in the Chamber, her _Fleimkepa_ standing ready at her side as he always had been each time before. The very thought of the possibility pulled her from her grief, calming her, starting her mind to thinking and analyzing her current situation once more.

The reprieve was brief, however, as a moment later all thoughts of the spirit world ceased as she was startled by a loud, knocking reverberation sounding all around her. It thrummed through the walls and floor, shaking her bones, and was quickly followed by several loud clicks and a shrill, scraping wail of metal on metal. Lexa tensed at the unusual sounds, her mind unable to place them as anything remotely familiar. The closest she could come in comparison was the occasional creaks and groans the tower’s mechanical elevator sometimes made when the chains and pulleys were especially in need of greasing.

The moment the noises ceased, Lexa felt the most unusual sensation come over her all at once. As though the very air that surrounded her had become as buoyant as water, she felt herself float up off the floor, body swaying and bouncing lightly in its tight bonds, her feet no longer tethered to the ground as they ought.

 _This has to be a Trial_ , she thought, overwhelmed and confused by the strangeness of everything she was experiencing.

 _Or, this is some strange, unknown technology that Skaikru possesses, and they have taken me captive with it somehow,_ she considered alternatively, recalling all of the teachings she had received as a _Natblida_ about the mysterious dangers that technology could pose.

 _…Or, you have truly failed completely, and it is the Entity who holds you captive, working to discover your greatest fears and weaknesses even now so that it might better torment your mind_.

This last thought came unwanted from a darker, more fearful place in her mind, and her black blood ran colder at the possibility.

The webbing holding her began to vibrate as the walls and floor around her slowly started to shake. Slightly at first, then with rising force and volume, until the sound was a roaring cacophony louder than even the greatest of waterfalls she had ever seen. She was pushed backwards, her back now pressing against the wall as an unseen force began to build and throw its weight against her. Soon it shifted, however, and rather than pressing against the wall, she was now sliding upwards towards the perceived ceiling above, the straps of the webbing digging into her shoulders. It was uncomfortable, but she was glad for the bindings holding her now, as she was sure without them she would have been sent tumbling around the small enclosure she was in, likely hurting herself greatly in the process. Incredibly, the noise was still building, so loud now that it drowned out her own screams as she shouted into the dark, her mouth parting into a defiant snarl as she raged against… _whatever_ hell this was.

 _The ship’s accelerating and beginning to hit atmosphere_ , an inner voice that sounded exactly like her own informed her, rising unbidden with an answer.

Lexa was no stranger to voices. As the current Commander, she often felt and heard the spirits of the previous Commanders within her on an almost instinctual level, and they often offered her advice and comfort when she needed it most. However, this had felt different, at once strange and yet as familiar as her own face. Lexa knew – without knowing exactly _how_ she knew – that not only was it _her_ thought, but that it was also true.

The ship, if that’s what it was, shuddered in an entirely new way than before, and Lexa felt the direction and intensity of the pressure on her skin again change, this time lessening enough to allow her feet to touch the ground once more. No longer feeling like her arm was pinned beside her, she managed to lift her hand and swipe at the sweat on her brow, the stress and uncertainty of the last few minutes causing her body to respond appropriately. It had also become noticeably warmer, she realized, the pleasant, if perhaps somewhat cool atmosphere she had awoken to quickly becoming replaced with a stifling heat. The wall felt warm against her back even through the strange materials of the clothes she had only just now realized she was wearing. The unrelenting darkness she had been living in was also changing, giving way to a dim light that just allowed her to barely see her surroundings for the first time. What little she could see didn’t reveal much, only the dull gray of metal walls all around her and a tangle of pipes and dangling wires whose purpose and function she couldn’t dare to imagine.

Though Lexa felt she had reached a level of confusion and alarm that should have left her incapable of being further surprised, she still jerked in her bonds when the next rapid series of explosions sounded.

 _It’s just the first set of parachutes firing open now that the landing jets have slowed us down_ , her own voice told her, again answering a question she hadn’t even known she had asked.

“What? I don’t understand… Who are you?” she asked out loud, clutching her head with her free hand as the intensity of her previous headache suddenly multiplied. There was no answer, though she hadn’t really expected one. It felt like her head was cracking open now, and some of the fogginess and mental confusion she had initially felt when she first gained consciousness momentarily returned.

 _Why hasn’t the landing chute opened yet?! If it doesn’t open really soon then we are just going to crash and die, and this will all have been for nothing,_ she thought, relieved when just a moment later there was another loud bang and the ship jolted, its descent now slowing to a speed hopefully safe for landing. The jets would keep firing until they touched ground, but it was mostly the large parachutes doing the work of landing them safely now.

She felt it when they finally struck earth an unknown number of seconds later. She was so turned around and anxious that she wasn’t sure how much time was truly passing. It could have only been seconds ago when the first noises started, or it could have been many minutes. But as the ship shuddered and settled and the landing jets finally sputtered out, leaving her in a deafening silence once again, Lexa knew with certainty that she had just returned home. To the ground.

 _Where was I before, then?_ She wondered. _Was I somewhere up in the sky, like Clarke and the other Sky People who grew up among the stars?_

The thought was strangely exhilarating. She had never told Clarke this, but from the moment she had learned of the Sky People and their true origins she had been both mystified and fascinated by the unbelievable journey they had taken to return to the ground. To think that there had been people up there living among the stars all this time, people just like her, who had succeeded in returning to the Earth despite the incredible dangers of the journey, had always struck her as a truly poetic and fantastic story. One worth cherishing and retelling so that it might never be forgotten by future generations. It was also one of the other reasons why she had always wished to see their people be at peace with hers. To have come so far, from the stars themselves, only to be slaughtered in a useless war, to her seemed a regrettable, unnecessary tragedy. One which she would avoid if she could. 

The dim light which had briefly allowed her to see had vanished, and Lexa’s eyes again strained against the darkness. She fumbled awkwardly with the straps holding her immobile, now desperate to get herself free from them and find a way out of this place. Her blind fingers could make no sense of the knots and tangles of the webbing holding her, however. She needed light, and without thinking her hand moved to a place on the left side of her chest. Clipped to the front of the stiff material of her jacket was a small, hard object. Her fingers pressed down on it instinctively, and with a soft click a white light immediately burst into existence in front of her, its brightness making her eyes water.

Lexa looked down at her body, truly able to see herself now for the first time. She was wearing black, tight fitting boots laced over dark, slim trousers, a thin black shirt tucked into her waistline. Over it she was startled to discover she was wearing the thick, protective jacket that she had seen many of the _Skaikru_ warriors wearing during their attack on the Mountain. There was a strap running diagonally across her chest, and it occurred to her that the object which had been digging into part of her back and side this whole time was in fact the small pack she was wearing over her shoulder. Fastened to the front of her jacket was a flashlight, the bright glow from which was lighting the wall in front of her and allowing her to see. Everything she was wearing were things she had only ever seen among _Skaikru_ or the Mountain Men, and it felt strange seeing those clothes against her own skin, although they did feel oddly comfortable as well. Like she had always worn such things. Always known how to turn on a flashlight, despite the fact that she had never used one before in her entire life.

But wait… No, that wasn’t quite true. In fact, she remembered pulling those pants up her legs and quickly lacing up these very boots that morning. Remembered shrugging into the jacket, pulling it over the t-shirt she was wearing, clipping the small flashlight to the front pocket, then fastening her hair back and out of the way in a somewhat loose bun at the nape of her neck. She remembered regarding herself in the small mirror of the bathroom she was standing in, taking a moment to make sure everything was in place, trying to settle her slight nerves and gather herself for what needed to be done. Pulling the cap onto her head and low over her eyes to partially conceal her face, her pulse beginning to hammer with anticipation and nerves, the cold steely resolve that always overcame her when she was doing something dangerous, something that needed to be done, filling her with a heady and driving confidence. There was no time for second guessing. This was the only way. She would not fail.

Lexa shook her head at the unusual memories that played before her mind, stunned by the clarity of them. Was that how she had come to be wearing these clothes? What had she been preparing to do, and why did she feel like she was an actor stepping into a story already halfway told? She was well accustomed to encountering the difficult and inexplicable within her own mind, of course. She had survived the Conclave, after all, and many Trials since her Ascension, but this didn’t have the feeling of any of those. This was something new. She had died, and now something unexplained and unexpected was happening to her, and she must do her best to unravel it and find her way through to wherever it might lead.

Able to see now, Lexa began working herself free of the bright red straps and ties that had kept her from injury during the ship’s landing. After undoing several latches and clips, she shrugged free of them awkwardly, the confined space she was in making it difficult still to move. As soon as she was loose, she began shining the light all around her, eyes searching for a way out. She had obviously gotten in here somehow, so there must be a way out. She tried to remember where the source of the dim light had been earlier, turning off her flashlight again to see if any cracks of light emerged.

There, behind her, just to the left of where she had been pinned was a small seam of light along the floor. She crouched next to it, turning the flashlight on once again to examine the metal panel of the wall, hands pressing against it as she searched for a weakness. After a minute of useless pushing and scraping with no real result, Lexa paused to press her face against the wall and take several long, calming breaths. The stifling air of the enclosed space was beginning to work on her already stretched nerves. If she didn’t get out of here soon, she feared she would be reduced to kicking and screaming, beating against the surrounding walls and pipes in pure impotent fury at her predicament.

 _Wait… are those voices?_ She wondered, the hum of what sounded like people talking reaching her through the hard surface of wall. She pressed her ear against the metal, barely breathing, and was rewarded by being able to hear faint voices beyond.

 _“This is stupid,”_ someone was saying, _“Someone is already dead, and we can’t just stay in here forever or the rest of us will be soon too! I say we open the damn door now and take our chances.”_

Other voices rose at this as people shouted their support or objections, and she was unable to make out any specific words for a time. Another voice rose loudly over the din.

_“I agree! We can’t stay in here. If we are going to die, let’s get it over with already… Dying of radiation can’t be any worse than dying of starvation. At least out there there’s a chance we can make it. Go to Mount Weather and get food and supplies, like the Chancellor said.”_

_“Surprise, surprise… the little prince wants us to do what his daddy says,”_ the earlier voice responded, several others laughing at his words. The sneering confidence in his voice sounded oddly familiar, even muffled as it was through the wall, and Lexa wondered at that familiarity. They were speaking _Gonasleng_ , the enemy’s language, which meant her unseen companions were almost certainly either Sky People or Mountain Men, the first option seeming more likely as there was only one Mountain Man left alive in all the world, as she well knew.

It sounded like they were getting ready to leave, and as had always been one of her true strengths, Lexa quickly weighed her options and came to a swift decision, knowing that she might only have a short window of opportunity to act. She needed out of here and right now the faceless people beyond were likely her best chance.

Taking a deep breath, Lexa began shouting loudly, kicking the wall with her booted feet and hammering it with her fists, making as much noise as she possibly could. She did so for a handful of seconds then paused, pressing her ear back against the wall to listen.

_“… No, I heard it too… I swear I just heard someone shouting… Everybody, shut up!”_

_“Where was it coming from? I don’t hear it now…”_

_“Over here, I think, somewhere behind there. Hey you, give me a hand here!”_

Lexa resumed her pounding and shouting assault on the wall, confident now that they could hear her. After a minute she began to hear answering knocks, then a tumult of banging and scraping followed. She stepped back as much as the cramped space would allow when the sounds increased, anticipation filling her when she saw the crack of light near the floor get larger, then a square panel of wall begin to shake and rattle as the people outside worked to break it loose. Suddenly, with a tired groan of metal, the panel was pulled free, and the voices outside were abruptly clear. A head popped into the opening, someone crouching to get a look inside, and the boy’s head swiveled up and around for a second before he saw her, a grin stretching across his handsome features as his eyes met hers.

“Hey there gorgeous… Need a little help?” he asked, and Lexa felt her heart stutter in shock and eyes open wide in complete surprise.

_No… it can’t be. It isn’t possible!_

His smile lessened a bit at her expression, his own face now looking up at her with kindness as he shook his brown hair from his eyes.

“Hey, are you okay?” the boy asked her with a concerned voice, but Lexa merely continued to stare back at him.

The young man who had murdered eighteen of her people, whom she had ordered killed in punishment for his crimes… The boy whom Clarke had once cared so much for that she had fought fiercely to save him until the very end, before being forced to mercifully take his life in front of Lexa’s own eyes. The one whom the Sky People had called Finn, knelt before her… Alive.

“Don’t worry, gorgeous, we’ll get you out of here,” he was saying, gesturing for her to come towards him. “Here, follow me. Careful though, it’s a bit of a tight fit.”

Composing herself, not trusting her voice, Lexa nodded to him, then crouched to slide after him through the escape which had been created for her. She could feel the cold, uncaring mask of the Commander stealing over her features, her body tensing and ready for swift action. She had no idea what to expect – what new mysteries waited for her within the brightness beyond – but she was _Heda_. She would not allow fear or uncertainty to cloud her judgement. If she now knew anything after seeing Finn Collins’ face, it was that she was no longer in the world she had known. If he was still alive in this place, then anything was possible. She must be prepared and ready for _anything_.

Sliding first though a bulkhead and then another thin wall, Lexa slowly stood up from her crouch on the other side. Her eyes travelled up the ring of feet which surrounded her, up legs and torsos to find dozens of unfamiliar faces of all types crowding around her, their features all young and unmarked by tattoos or scars. Finn stood in front of her in an almost defensive posture, his hands up and waving the ring of people back.

“Okay people, back off! Give her some room to breathe,” he was telling them, and the circle around her slowly widened. She quickly glanced in every direction while she had the chance, the breath freezing in her lungs as she realized where, exactly, she was. She had only been there once before, and it had looked quite different then, but it had been a memorable visit. It was the day she had first met Clarke, after all, and the memory was burnt into her soul with exquisite clarity. She remembered climbing the ladders before her to find Lincoln dead on the floor above, a look of panicked desperation filling Clarke’s face as she saw that they had failed to heal him from his Reaper state as she had promised they could. A sharp disappointment and harsh anger filling her own chest as she accepted what must now be done as a result of Clarke’s deceit.

Now, here she was once again. She was on the dropship, and around her were a hundred young Sky People, their faces confused and fearful of what was to come, the great door to the outside world still sealed before them, locking them in.

Lexa couldn’t help it, her mind stopped working and her heart raced as she immediately began to search the crowd for that one familiar face… That one soul she was so desperate to find in this strange, alien place.

“Clarke!?” she called out, ignoring the questions and gazes of the young men and women in front of her. She didn’t care. She only wanted to find one person… Talk to just one person. If Finn and the dropship were here, then surely… _surely_ she must be here as well?

“Clarke!” she called again, stepping around Finn, moving to search through the crowd. Her heart nearly exploded when she heard and answer to her call, the thin, familiar voice rising above the tumult, the relief so obvious in it that she knew without a doubt she had been recognized.

“ _Heda!”_ the voice called, and then he was before her, his slim form slipping between the other larger teens, arms clutching her in a tight, relieved embrace. She stood stunned for several seconds before her own arms reached around to hug him in return, feeling an answering relief at the reality of his presence here, though her mind struggled to accept it.

“ _Aden…?_ ” she breathed out, hearing the disbelief in her own voice. _“Haukom yu kamp raun hir?!”_ she asked him, confounded by his presence in the dropship.

“ _Heda!... Em laik yu!_ ”

 _“Sha, Aden, ai laik hir,”_ she reassured him, wanting to say and ask so much more, but now conscious of the curious faces surrounding them. She pulled back from him, eyes searching out his, and she watched as he calmed himself and released her, a little embarrassment now showing at having touched her in such a familiar way. He was dressed as the others were, in Sky People clothing and a light jacket, and she wondered at that just as she had wondered at her own clothing earlier. She knew that she should be worrying about the _Skaikru_ who were watching. That their situation was potentially dangerous and she should be focusing on trying to figure out what was going on, but she couldn’t help herself from asking him one question first.

 _“Hashta Klark?”_ she asked quietly, hope living within her for a second before it fell to nothing, her throat tightening when he shook his head sadly in reply.

Lexa closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath, steadying herself, then opened them again and gave Aden a reassuring nod.

“Hey, we’re talking to you!” one of the teens was saying, a girl whom she didn’t recognize. Lexa looked away from Aden, who then stepped over to her side and turned to face the growing crowd with her, his lean body tensing and beginning to crouch into a defensive stance. Heartened at having the _Natblida_ boy there by her side, Lexa lifted her chin and stared down the others with a cold, unimpressed gaze. These children did not scare her, and she felt the iron reforming in her spine as they crowded closer to the two of them.

“What were you doing hiding in the walls?” someone asked.

“Yeah! And just who the hell are you anyways? That’s a guard jacket you’re wearing, so don’t pretend you’re one of us... And who’s the kid?” another boy shouted from somewhere in the back, and it was that same sneering voice from earlier that had seemed so familiar to her.

Lexa opened her mouth to answer, the words rising from within with a certainty that felt beyond her control, her voice ringing above the crowd with confidence and authority.

“I am Lexa Black… and this is my brother, Aden.”

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The sharp staccato of the councilwoman’s low heels sounded down the station corridor as she strode with purposeful steps, the people around her moving out of her way instinctively, some nodding to her with respect as she passed. As both Polaris station’s Senior Representative and a member of the Council, Anya Petrova was arguably the second most powerful person on the Ark, and her commanding presence and authoritative manner left little doubt that she was not to be treated with lightly.

Reaching the hatch at the end of the hall, she paused to check the time on her watch before knocking on the door, carefully counting out the numbers and appropriate pauses so that the rhythm was exactly correct.

After a moment, an answering knock sounded, to which she replied, “It’s me. Open the damn door, I don’t have much time.”

The latch turned and the door swung open to reveal Sinclair’s tired face, his eyes red and bruised from stress and lack of sleep.

“Councilwoman Petrova, ma’am, please come in.”

She entered behind him, stepping immediately up to the various monitors and computers that lined one of the walls of the small room, gaze sweeping across the displays with piercing intensity.

“Have we found him yet?” she asked, hearing him walk over to stand beside her.

“Yes, I think so. It looks like security picked him up yesterday morning, but I haven’t had time to confirm it yet. I only got a hold of the camera feeds three hours ago, and I just found him on them a few minutes before you arrived.”

“Three hours ago?” she repeated, her tone incredulous. “Aden has been missing for more than twenty-four hours… What could possibly have taken you so long?”

“I am sorry, ma’am. I started working on it as soon as you notified me of the situation yesterday, but I got pulled away for most of the night. Chancellor Jaha’s orders. He had the whole engineering department running another series of pre-launch tests on one of the dropships until early this morning,” the man explained, and Anya sighed, now turning to face him.

“Another dropship run-up? That’s the second time in less than a month… What does Jaha think he is doing? If he keeps running these detailed diagnostics on the Exodus and dropships, people are going to start to wonder why. He won’t be able to keep the Ark’s life support systems failures a secret for long once the right people start to ask questions,” Anya said, her frustrations with the Ark’s current Chancellor clear in her voice.

“I know,” Sinclair agreed, worry in his own tone, “Some of the work crews were already talking about it last night. You can’t pull people from their beds in the middle of the night to do something like that and not expect them to start getting curious. It seems foolish.”

“Does anyone suspect you know anything?” she asked sharply, and the man shook his head in reply.

“No, of course not, ma’am. You can trust me not to say or do anything to give it away,” he hurried to assure her, his expression earnest.

“I should hope so… Only the Council is supposed to be aware of the current situation on the Ark. You’re both the Chief Engineer and a citizen of Polaris, so he is already watching you closely. If the Chancellor were to even begin to suspect that you know, he would certainly put two and two together and use it as an excuse to come after both of us, whether he has evidence or not.”

Sinclair murmured his agreement, again reassuring her that he would be careful. She turned back to the displays and the task at hand, knowing time was short.

“So, where is he? And how was he discovered?”

“He’s likely in one of the juvenile holding cells for now,” Sinclair told her, pulling up several images on the monitors in front of them. “This video was taken on Unity station a few hours before we realized he was missing. It looks like he was trying to get to the hydroponics on Farm Station… you know how badly he has always wanted to see them… But he got caught in a security sweep. Looks like they saw him try to leave and grabbed him soon after. I can’t be sure from these images, but if they did scan him, they had to have discovered he was unregistered, and you know what that means as well as I do.”

“And the juvenile prison records?” Anya asked, a small part of her hoping that Sinclair was wrong, but knowing that he rarely was. This was something they had feared happening for many years, and her heart felt like ice in her chest as she contemplated what this meant.

“As I said, I haven’t had time to get access yet. Aden’s smart, though, so I doubt he’s told them anything or given them his name. It’s only a matter of time before he goes into medical processing, however, so we will need to act fast.”

Anya nodded silently, the gravity of the situation pressing down on her. Aden was not only a precious and valuable resource, but he was also a boy she had known and cared for since he was very small. Much of the responsibility for keeping his existence a secret had fallen on her shoulders, and she couldn’t help but feel like she had failed him. It didn’t matter that it was likely his own foolish decisions that had led to his capture. As the woman in charge of Polaris, and one of the few people remaining on the Ark who was aware of the 13th station’s special mission and purpose, it was she who was ultimately responsible for whatever fate befell the boy. Not only that, but if Aden remained in captivity it would only be a matter of time before they discovered his unusual origins and the strange nature of his blood. If that happened, even she would not be able to protect Polaris and its secrets for long.

“Do what you can to find answers, and start coming up with ideas for how to best salvage this. If he _has_ been arrested and detained, we need to get someone in there who can talk to him. We will also need to find a way to delay his medical in-processing, even if only for a short time. Anything it takes, you understand?” she told him, her eyes glacial in their resolve. “I don’t care if we have to take down the whole medical section with temporary power outages for weeks… We can’t let them discover what he is.”

“I’m on it, boss,” he told her grimly, “I won’t let you down.”

“Good,” she sighed, “Now, unfortunately, I need to go. Jaha contacted all of the Council members this morning. He is holding an emergency closed meeting in…” she glanced at her elegant wrist watch, “less than ten minutes. Have you seen Lexa?” she asked.

“No, not since yesterday,” he replied. “Do you want me to track her down for you?”

“No, no… that isn’t necessary,” she told him, annoyance at her absent assistant coloring her voice. “She should be here, though. It’s her brother that’s missing… and I tried to comm her this morning but she didn’t answer.” Sinclair looked concerned at her words.

“That doesn’t sound like her,” he said. “She said she was going to look into something yesterday, that she would let me know if she found anything on Aden, but I was called away to oversee the work on that stupid dropship and haven’t heard from her since. Maybe she did find something, got in over her head?” he suggested, worry in his tone.

“Lexa is _never_ in over her head,” Anya growled, affection warring with anxiety over the young woman’s unexplained absence at a time like this. “Maybe you _should_ look for her, after all,” she conceded after a moment’s pause. “If something is wrong, we need to know sooner rather than later. If we can’t save Aden, then Lexa will truly be the last hope we have left. We can’t afford to lose her… We can’t afford to lose either of them.”

The man nodded solemnly, and Anya softened a bit in the face of his determination and loyalty, despite how exhausted she knew he must be.

“Thank you, by the way, for doing this. For being here. You’re a good man, and a good friend.”

“Thanks, but you don’t need to thank me. There’s not many of us old guard left on Polaris, you know… We need to stick together. Who else is going to save humanity, if not us?” he replied with a self-deprecating grin, and she smiled back in return, a rare soft expression on her face that not many got to see.

“Alright, then. I’ll be back as soon as the Council meeting is over.”

Anya gave the monitors one last glance before she departed, seeing Aden’s young face frozen in time, looking desperately for an escape as the guards closed in behind him. She didn’t know what this secret Council meeting was about, but she prayed Jaha would get it over with quickly. She didn’t have time for his political drama. Not today. Her people, and most especially Aden and Lexa, were counting on her. As she had sworn the day she was elected to the position of Senior Representative of Polaris station, she knew she would do anything necessary to both protect them _and_ safeguard their legacy…

… Even if it got her floated in the process.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Translations: 

_“Aden…? Haukom yu kamp raun hir?!” - -_ “Aden…? What are you doing here?!”

“ _Heda!... Em laik yu!_ ” - - “Commander!... It _is_ you!”

 _“Sha, Aden, ai laik hir,”_ \- - “Yes, Aden, I am here.”

 _“Hashta Klark?”_ \- - “What about Clarke?”

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

_Author’s Note:_

_Okay, folks, what do you think? Are you shocked? Confused?... Bored? Lol.  Lexa has had quite a few surprises so far, but at least she now has Aden by her side. The Black siblings 2kForever! But where is Clarke, you ask? Well, you’ll just have to wait to find out._

_Also, I am really digging Anya in space in a power-suit, having zero tolerance for Jaha and his bullshit. I can’t wait to write the two of them interacting. And Sinclair! What a good guy, huh? I bet you weren’t expecting him to make an appearance, but I’ve always had a soft-spot for him… Probably because he is so good to Raven, my beautiful smol spitfire mechanic. Oh Raven! Where fore out thou in this fic? She’s coming soon, I promise. ;)_

_Let me know what you guys think, and if this is something you would like to see continued. I am enjoying writing it now for my own pleasure, even if no one is reading it, but a little encouragement never hurts. Lexa lives on! I refuse to believe otherwise._

_Yours,_

_FlyUpInSky_


	4. To Be a Black

 

“You’re crazy… Nobody has a brother!” 

Lexa held her ground as the young people around her tittered and laughed at her words, disbelief on each and every one of their faces. Her own expression didn’t change, remaining aloof and unconcerned despite the internal confusion that her own words had caused.

_I am Lexa Black…_

_Lexa Black._

The name felt _right_ somehow. Like it had always been hers, and her mind spun with the possibilities it created. Was this the explanation for the strange memories and thoughts that had been assaulting her since she awoke to darkness? The reason for the clothes she wore, and the comfort and familiarity she felt even now with the forbidden technology around her? Was she truly still _Leksa kom Trikru_ , _Heda_ and Commander of the Coalition of the Twelve Clans, or had she been changed… Transfigured by her death into something, or someone, completely new?

… _this is my brother, Aden._

This also felt true, but rather than the deep uneasiness and uncertainty that her new identity had caused, this affirmation of their close bond even in this life brought her a measure of comfort. She was accustomed to being alone, of course. After Costia’s death, and before Clarke came into her life, she had learned to face the world’s challenges on her own. Love was weakness. It was this belief which had allowed her to continue on even after having heard news of Anya’s death. This truth which made her capable of carrying out Gustus’ punishment for his crimes, despite knowing that he had done what he had done only out of love for her.

Then, everything changed when a girl dropped out of the sky and showed her that perhaps she deserved more than to just survive alone. Deserved more than to live a life without love. She had begun to believe, after finding Clarke again, after being forgiven by her, that she might be able to change that now. To begin to depend upon someone else for once. To form a true partnership with the woman she loved, so they might shoulder the burdens of leadership together and be stronger for it… But Clarke was not here now, and Lexa feared the possibility that she might never be found at all in this strange, other place. The thought terrified her. To be completely alone in the world again – to be without the woman she loved – now seemed a fate worse than the death she had apparently escaped.

But now there was Aden at her side, the Nightblood boy whom she had always cared too much for. Her brother, it seemed, in this life, and also her only current link to who she had been before. She didn’t yet know why, or how, he was here with her, but she did know that he was quite possibly the only other person in the world who even knew of the existence of Clarke, the girl who had fallen from the sky and changed her life forever. She resolved in that moment to do whatever it took to keep the boy safe, a fierce protectiveness for him filling her, bandaging some of the cracks she felt in her heart over Clarke’s absence. Until she could discover her true purpose here, she would make it her mission to see that Aden came to no harm.

“He _is_ my brother,” she stated again with conviction, addressing the boy who had laughed and shouted at her. “What reason would I have to lie?”

Silence greeted her at this, then a skinny, hawkish looking girl spoke up, tucking her long hair behind her ears nervously as she did so.

“I think she might be telling the truth. I heard that the kid isn’t registered… I was there when they brought him in yesterday, and some of the guards were talking about him.”

“Woah, man, that’s awesome!” said another, this time a scrawny youth who sported a pair of goggles perched jauntily on top of his head. “You’re like a total fugitive, little dude… What did they do, hide you under the floorboards when you were born?”

Lexa ignored the laughter and questions that followed, her mind working at a furious pace. She gave Aden a cautionary glance, telling him with a look to keep his mouth shut and follow her lead. He nodded once in reply, his eyes burningly intense, posture alert. Aden was clever and very skilled for his age, and she felt she could count on him not to do or say anything foolish.

“But what are you doing here? What’s with the guard uniform?” someone asked, not without a little hostility.

 _They’re all criminals_ , she remembered suddenly, recalling one of the few conversations she and Clarke had shared about the friends who had landed with her. Clarke might not be here now, but Finn Collins certainly was, and this was definitely the same ship she had seen before, though it was unmarked by the ravages of time spent on the ground. Perhaps the current circumstances were largely the same as when Clarke had descended in the dropship from the Ark, with only small details having changed? Perhaps Lexa’s and Aden’s very presence had changed things somehow, altered the way things were supposed to be? These assumptions all seemed plausible… Never mind that she had absolutely no idea how any of this was possible in the first place.

_With the jacket I am wearing, they are all wondering right now if I am a member of the guard… They will never trust me if they think I am one of those who kept them imprisoned._

“I’m here for my brother,” she told them, keeping her explanations simple for now, “I borrowed the uniform to get access to the ship… It was the only way.”

“Borrowed? That’s a laugh… Stolen is probably more like it.”

“Hey, I guess that makes her one of us after all, huh?” someone else added, and the people around them laughed, some of the tension disappearing as quickly as it had formed.

“Okay, enough with the family drama already… Can we get the hell out of here, or what?” a sharp voice asked, and this time she was finally able to see the person whom she had heard speaking multiple times before. It took her several seconds to realize who he was, so greatly was he transformed from when she had seen him last.

 _The Skaikru prisoner… of course,_ she thought, surprised at the stab of guilt she felt in seeing him. She had not been the one to order his torture, but he had suffered greatly at the hands of a man whose actions she was ultimately responsible for. Was every sky person whom she had ever brought suffering upon now going to appear before her in this place? If that were the case, then shouldn’t Clarke be here as well?

_If I didn’t know better, I might think the spirits are mocking me._

The attention of the crowd turned away from the two of them after that, everyone pressing closer to the exit and resuming their earlier arguments. As the people moved away, Lexa saw Finn again in the space that had been created. He was kneeling, a thoughtful expression on his face as he considered the body of a young man lying on the floor there, a small pool of blood forming around his crushed skull. She walked over to him, curious.

“What happened to him?”

Finn didn’t answer right away, the seriousness on his face a sharp contrast to the earlier flirtation and good humor he had greeted her with when he found her trapped inside the wall.

“It was stupid,” he said finally, glancing up at her. “I took off my seatbelt when we undocked and the gravity kicked off… Just wanted to have a little fun before dying, you know?” He paused. “I didn’t tell him to follow me. If he’d stayed in his seat, he’d still be alive.”

Lexa watched him carefully, interested in him despite herself. This was someone Clarke had cared for in another life, after all. She found that she wanted to know why.

“Responsibility for one’s actions are always one’s own, it’s true,” she told him, then added, “But so are we also responsible for the actions which we inspire in others… It’s a painful lesson to learn, but one worth remembering.”

He stared up at her at her words, something unreadable in his eyes. She didn’t flinch under his gaze, but rather just regarded him steadily, her own eyes trying and failing to weigh the person before her. Who was Finn Collins? Was he merely a murderer waiting to emerge, or was there more to this person than his confident swagger and charming smiles? She supposed she would find out soon enough. In the meantime, she hoped no one else would die because of his mistakes.

“Was that supposed to be comforting?” he asked her.

“No. Just true.”

“Well, then…” he sighed, climbing back up to his feet and smiling at her again. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to get out of here. What do you say, gorgeous? Ready to see the ground at last?”

She frowned.

“Lexa.”

“What?”

“My name. It’s not ‘gorgeous’, it’s Lexa,” she told him, aggravated despite herself by his insolent, familiar tone.

“Ah, I see,” he said with a smug smile. “You don’t like being called gorgeous… Do you, gorgeous?”

_Infuriating… idiotic... boy!_

She turned away from him, not wanting him to see her annoyance, catching as she did so the small smile on Aden’s face. He had been standing behind her and had no doubt caught every word of their conversation.

“Aden,” she said, and his smile disappeared as he nearly came to attention at her tone. “Follow me.”

Together, they crossed the lower deck of the dropship and elbowed their way to the hatch door. Once people realized who it was pushing through them, they quickly began to move out of her way on their own, though whether this was because of something about her specifically or merely a learned response to the guard’s jacket she wore, she couldn’t be sure.

“Come on, Murphy, screw them! Just do it already,” someone shouted as they approached.

The _Skaikru_ prisoner – whose name was Murphy, it seemed – was standing toe-to-toe with two other boys, their faces all an angry red from the heat of the confrontation. It seemed Murphy had tried to open the door once already, but the other two had stopped him. Their determination was clear on their faces, though it seemed most of the other assembled teens didn’t agree with them and preferred to try their luck outside. Lexa strode up to the door’s hatch controls, ignoring the dramatic scene that was unfolding right next to her. Not stopping to overthink how she knew what she was doing, she flipped open the latch cover and had already tore loose the safety wiring before anyone even had time to respond.

“Hey! What are you doing?” one of the boys arguing with Murphy said, stepping towards her threateningly.

Lexa raised an eyebrow, his childish bluster failing to intimidate her.

“I’m going home,” she answered, and with a sharp pull and a twist, Lexa manually disengaged the electrical locks of the giant hydraulic door and watched as, with a mighty groan, it fell open before them. A stunned silence followed, the bright outside light pouring in on the gathered faces, a blast of fresh, pine-scented air accompanying it and instantly filling Lexa’s lungs and soul.

She looked to Aden, who was now standing alone beside her, the others having fallen back in surprise when the door opened, and gave him the smallest of private smiles. He smiled back at her shyly, excitement glowing in his eyes. They were in this together now, whatever challenges might come, and together they would face whatever… or _whoever_ might be waiting for them in this strange, and yet so achingly familiar place and time.

_I don’t know what’s coming, or what destiny has led me to this place, but I am here, Clarke, and I swear that I will find you again… Wherever you might be…_

_…Whoever you are._

And with that oath made, Lexa and Aden Black stepped off of the dropship together and into the unknown of the world beyond.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“We have a right to know!”

“I saw the ship launch myself… Are you calling me a liar? We deserve to know what’s happening!”

Anya slowed in her approach to the Council chambers, the mingled shouts and cries of the angry crowd growing outside its doors reaching her as soon as she entered the hallway. There were perhaps two dozen people already there, their fists clenched and voices raised in combined anger. Two guards stood in front of the crowd barring their way, sweat and stress building on their faces as they tried to keep the assembled men and women under control.

 _A ship launch?_ Anya thought, her concern growing. _Oh hell, what has Jaha done now?_

“Out of my way,” she ordered as she approached the crowd, her voice ringing with impatience. She didn’t have time for dealing with this mob, though she did wonder at its reasons for being. The meeting just beyond those doors was to start in less than a couple minutes. Although Anya sometimes enjoyed arriving with no time to spare for one of Jaha’s more routine meetings – it was an excellent way to simultaneously tweak the Chancellor’s nose and assert Polaris station’s special status and relative independence – she was also always careful to never actually be late, and today was not the time for those types of games.

A red-faced man turned to face her, his demeanor aggressive and confrontational.

“You! You’re on the Council! Tell us what’s going on… Is the ground livable again? Is that why the Council is sending people down there?!”

He pressed forward, nearly touching her, and Anya felt herself go both still and coldly furious at his audacity.

“I’ll only say this one more time,” she told him, her voice as sharp and cutting as broken glass, “Out. Of. My. Way… Now.”

The man took another step, his arms stiffening at his sides, and Anya had a second to consider whether or not he might actually try to hurt her before he was suddenly down and gasping, a shockstick buzzing in the air next to him. The sound of the electric lash striking flesh made the crowd grow quiet, their eyes wide and alarmed.

“Unless each and every one of you would like to be tried and convicted for the unlawful obstruction of the Council in carrying out its appointed duties, which is a capital crime, for which the punishment is immediate execution by floating, then I suggest you disperse right… now.”

The man’s voice was firm and unyielding, and it cowed the gathering crowd better than a bucket full of ice water could have. First in ones, then twos and threes, the people began to shuffle away, their faces still quietly desperate, but knowledge of just how swift and total the Ark’s system of justice was keeping them from disobeying.

“I did not ask for your help, Kane, nor did I need it.”

“You should be thanking me, Councilwoman,” Marcus Kane told her, a hard glint in his eye. “I saw the look in your eyes… You’re fortunate it was me that took him down and not you. Unlike you, a guard cannot be charged with assault for striking an Ark citizen first.”

“Truer words…” she replied in droll, mocking tones, knowing exactly how to goad him.

He frowned at this, which made her smile, which then made him flush in return as he finally caught her meaning.

“You know as well as I that the Ark Charter gives an officer of the guard the authority to…”

“Yes, yes, Marcus, the Ark Charter, _I_ _know_ ,” she interrupted him, “I would love to hear more, of course, but I’m afraid I must be going. Council meeting, you understand. I wouldn’t want to be late.”

Anya brushed past the Ark’s Chief of Security, the man’s expression darkening as his eyes watched her go… And he was watching her go, she knew, no doubt hating himself a little for noticing how attractive she looked walking away from him in her professional steel gray skirt, jacket and heels. Just as she also knew it had bothered him that she hadn’t appreciated his assistance.

 _Men…_ she thought. _Even the interesting ones are so predictable._

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Chancellor Thelonious Jaha stood in the center of the Council meeting chamber, his eyes scanning in a wide circle as he appraised each and every one of the gathered officers, knowing without counting them that he was going to come up short by one.

 _Damn that woman… and damn Polaris station_ , he thought to himself, struggling not to let his aggravation show.

As he had often done since taking office, Jaha cursed the first Chancellor of the Ark for his decision _not_ to blow Polaris out of the sky when they initially refused to join. It was a nearly forgotten footnote in history for most, but as the current Chancellor, Jaha had access to all of the restricted records, so he knew the true story and not just the one told by children on Unity Day.

In the first couple years after the destruction of the planet, each of the thirteen surviving stations had existed separately and independent from one another. However, what remained of humanity soon realized that they must band together if they were ever going to survive long enough to see future generations return to Earth. A plan was devised and the Ark was born, all stations quickly agreeing to join. All… except for Polaris, that is. Polaris station – already unusual in that it was in fact a privately owned research station, whose prior purpose and function had never been fully explained even to this day – remained stubbornly apart, resisting all attempts to force it to join. The newly appointed Chancellor at the time had finally given the station an ultimatum: join, or be blown from the sky. Incredibly, the stubborn Polaris stationers had refused, calling the Chancellor’s bluff.

Oh, Jaha didn’t doubt that the man had truly thought he would go through with it. He had read the journals, seen the log entries. The decision had clearly tormented him for days. But in the end, the first Chancellor, who had witnessed the death of the planet only three years before, couldn’t bring himself to be the cause of more senseless death and suffering. He hadn’t gone through with it. Instead, a revision to the Ark Charter was offered up as a bargaining chip, and Polaris station finally agreed to become the 13th station of the Ark. The only station of the Ark which enjoyed a unique status under the Special Amendment to the Ark Charter.

The source of Jaha’s frustration, Councilwoman and Senior Station Representative Anya Petrova, finally entered, and he couldn’t help himself from glancing at his watch as she did so. She was exactly on time.

_Of course._

If it were up to him, the woman wouldn’t even _be_ on his Council… But it wasn’t up to him. As the elected Station Representative of Polaris, her position on his Council was automatic, as was dictated by the Special Amendment. Each of the other Council members were nominated by him first, and then approved by the current members of the Council, but not Anya Petrova. No, she was here because the first Chancellor of the Ark had been too weak to do what needed to be done all those years ago, and Polaris had been a constant destabilizing influence and thorn in the side of every Chancellor ever since.

 _If the first Chancellor had done his job and made an example out of Polaris like he should have done, the Sydney station incident would never have occurred,_ Jaha thought to himself. _No station would have dared to rebel after seeing Polaris blown to pieces... That’s exactly why being able to sacrifice is so important! Even if no one else is strong enough, I know I can’t afford to be weak and make the same mistakes that the first Chancellor did._

Shaking himself free from his thoughts – and his annoyance with the thirteenth station and its current leader, as he suspected that frustrating him was exactly why she did half the things she did, and he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing him squirm – Thelonious Jaha took his place at the round table in the center of the room and gestured for the Council members to join him.

“Welcome, everyone. Please, take your seats. I have something very important to tell you all.”

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The figures of a slender, brown haired woman and a slim, blond haired boy slipped around the side of the dropship where it stood, upright and imposing like an ancient stone monolith in the trees. They stepped into the further darkness of the nearby forest, both looking more at home there than they had inside the impressive construction of steel and composite, and paused to listen to the whoops and hollers of the excited teens who were exploring the ground around them for the first time.

“ _They’re worse than children… and just as clumsy in the woods_ ,” Aden sniffed disdainfully in _Trigedasleng_ , and Lexa had to agree, though she didn’t say so.

The Sky People had quickly rushed from the dropship after her and Aden and had led the way, and now they were running through the woods in delirious happiness, excited by everything they saw, heard and smelt, no thought in their minds for possible dangers.

“From now on, as long as we are among them, we should use their language only. Even if we think we are alone,” she told him, caution in her tone, and the boy nodded.

“What is this, Commander? How did we get here?” he asked, and she could see the uncertainty in him. These were the first words they had shared without being observed, and she could almost see him physically restraining himself from bombarding her with questions. His eyes on her were bright and trusting. She was _Heda_ , and it was only right that he expected her to have all the answers.

 _How much do I tell him?_ she asked herself, thinking of the reaction he might have to learning of Titus’ betrayal and her own death, wishing to spare him the pain of learning what the man had done to her. As Titus had been her teacher, so too was he Aden’s, and it would no doubt be a terrible shock to the boy, as it had been to her.

 _Unless…_ she thought, suddenly chilled by a realization. _I died, and somehow after dying was brought into this new life with all of my memories of the last still intact. There are others here, it’s true, but Finn did not know me here, nor did Murphy, and surely one or both of them would not have been able to conceal it had they recognized my face… But why Aden, then? He is also here, and he also remembers… What if he died as well, and that is how we both came to be in this place together?_

“Aden,” she said, after taking a moment to check that they were still completely alone and out of anyone’s hearing, her voice calm and measured to conceal the urgency she felt, “I need you to tell me everything you can remember about what happened in Polis just before you came here. Do you remember training with the other _Natblidas_ in the evening, just before the storm came?”

“Yes, we finished training a little early in order to beat the storm back to the tower… I remember I helped pull the cart with the others,” he replied, and she nodded for him to continue, glad that at least they seemed to be remembering the same day.

“Good, what else? What’s the last thing you remember doing before you were here?”

 _Did something terrible happen to you, Aden?_ she wanted to ask, her heart like a stone in her chest. _Did you die slowly, suffering and alone, murdered by the hands of someone you trusted?_

Lexa swallowed, struggling to stifle the emotion she could feel rising from within her, unable to stop the thought which followed.

_…Were you killed because, out of all the others, he knew I cared for you the most?_

The boy’s gaze went distant for a moment, then he shrugged, frowning a bit as he answered.

“Well, nothing happened, _Heda_ … I went to the Sacred Chamber to wait for my training with the _Fleimkepa_ , just as he asked me to, but he never arrived. He told me it might be a while, that he had some things to take care of first, so I waited for him there… And then, I opened my eyes, and I was sitting on a strange bed in a small, white room, and men were coming through the door. _Skaikru_ , I think. They were wearing your jacket,” he told her pointing at the coat she still wore, the symbol of the Sky People emblazoned upon its dark surface in muted colors of gray and brown.

“You were in the Sacred Chamber?” she asked, not masking the surprise in her voice.

“Yes, _Heda_ ,” he said, and she noticed the pride in him, the way he stood slightly taller before her when he said next, “Titus told me that you wanted me to train with the _Natgonas_ … and that I was to increase my training with him as well.”

She had to smile a little at this, despite her worry, as she couldn’t help but be amused by how anxious Aden was to please her, to prove himself. He was hardly a little boy anymore – rather, he was only a head shorter than she was now and growing larger every day – but he was still boy enough to yearn for her approval and encouragement. Titus would have told her she was being soft on him, that she needed to keep her distance and let him toughen up, but she found she no longer cared to consider Titus’ past advice.

“It was Godan who saw your performance and deemed you worthy of the _Natgonas_ , so you earned your place among them, Aden. I’m confident you would have done well.”

Aden flushed at her praise. Then, his voice a little brighter and more confident, he continued his story, describing to her how the men had forced him to change into the clothes he now wore. That he had been marched with the others through a confusing labyrinth of narrow metal halls to the dropship. They had all been strapped into their seats, and a man in a white coat had gone up to each of them, fastening a painful metal band around their wrists.

“Show it to me,” she demanded, and the boy rolled up his left sleeve, displaying the strange bracelet to her. She could just see where several small needles pierced his flesh, but otherwise it didn’t appear to be doing any great harm. She let go of his arm and asked him to continue.

“There was a message… a _video recording_ , I think,” his voice hesitated over the strange words, and she looked up at him sharply, not certain it was something he had actually been taught in _Gonasleng_. “A man told us that we were being sent to the ground to discover if humans could survive there… There was something else about going to a mountain for supplies… I don’t know. There was a lot going on. I was trying to figure out what was happening to me, _Heda_ , where I was, but it was very confusing.”

“It’s alright, Aden, I think I mostly understand the rest,” she reassured him, remembering her own earlier confusion.

“You said you just ‘opened your eyes’ and were in a different place… What were you doing in the Chamber? Did you fall asleep waiting for Titus?”

“No, _Heda_! Of course not,” he said with a wounded tone, as though insulted by her suggestion. “I wasn’t sure how long he would be, and I wanted to be ready. The _Fleimkepa_ has told me I need more practice in calming my mind, so I decided to begin preparations without him… I wanted to be ready,” he told her.

“You were meditating?” she asked.

“ _Sha, Heda_.”

Lexa didn’t correct him on his use of their language, as her mind was now fully occupied by the new possibilities his story had created.

_He was meditating… and in the Sacred Chamber, no less. That must be significant, I can feel it._

The more she learned, the more frustrated she became. There was simply no explanation that made sense for what had happened to them. She wondered again over her earlier suspicion that this was merely a very unusual, _very_ difficult Trial of a type she had never before experienced, but again she had to dismiss the idea. Trials felt fundamentally different. This… whatever _it_ was, felt as real and imperfect as anything she had ever experienced. A Trial would also not explain Aden’s presence, as he was not the Commander, and therefore incapable of performing that duty yet.

Aden was watching her carefully, his face hopeful. He was still waiting for answers, she realized, though he was sadly going to be disappointed on that front, as she still had no real theories to give him.

“What about you, _Heda_?” he asked cautiously. “What was the last thing you remember?”

Glancing around one last time, seeing no one nearby, as the others were still lost in their rapture over their return to the ground, Lexa gave herself only a second to consider the wisdom of sharing everything with him, then decided to put her full trust in the boy. Taking a seat beside him on a moss covered log, she quickly told him in sparse, undescriptive words exactly what had happened to her, and how exactly, she had died.

“ _Heda…_ ” he whispered, his eyes filling with tears. It saddened her to see the emotion in him at the news of her death, and Clarke’s grieving face swam before her vision briefly, overlapping with his.

“What’s done is done,” she told him, ignoring the lump in her own throat, “Regrets over the past will not help us now in the present. We need to focus on making plans for how to proceed.”

“But, _Heda…_ ” the boy persisted, his face still shocked, a note of fear in his voice. “If you have died, then Conclave…!” he trailed off, not finishing his thought.

But he didn’t need to, she knew exactly what he was thinking.

“No, that’s not what this is… Trust me Aden, this is not Conclave. You would remember the ceremony beginning, and my spirit would not be so confused as to not know it was time to choose the new Commander. The spirit world is quite different from this place, and a Conclave does not begin spontaneously upon my death, even if you _were_ in the Sacred Chamber at the time… There are preparations that must be done first.”

He calmed slightly at her words, but she didn’t feel nearly as confident in her assertions as she had made it sound.

“So you still carry the Commander’s Spirit, then?” he asked, more of a relieved statement of fact than anything else, but the question made her frown, a small knot of fear forming in her chest.

Lexa’s right hand flew up to her neck, her fingers searching out the scar which must… _must_ be there. Smooth skin met her touch, and a small part of her began to panic; the first real, true terror she had felt since her death rising along her spine, making her fingers shake and her stomach twist with sudden nausea.

_It can’t be…_

She closed her eyes, calming her mind and reaching for that place within her, that warm, guiding flame that had always been there since the day of her Ascension… the familiar presence within.

Nothing. Just as there had _been_ nothing since she awoke, she realized. Nothing but her own, strange voice speaking in words she didn’t, _shouldn’t_ recognize, and faint new memories of a life among the stars.

“ _Aden_ ,” she said, and the boy’s eyes widened at her tremulous tone. She swallowed harshly, turning her head away from him and showing him her neck.

“Aden, this is important. Look carefully… Is there a long, thin scar on the back of my neck, along the spine?” she asked. She felt him come closer, his hands helping to brush away some of the hair gathered there. She waited as he inspected the skin of her neck, hardly able to breathe through her growing fear.

“I don’t think so…” he said, and her hands clenched on her thighs, fingers digging into flesh through the material of her pants.

“Wait, no, I do see a scar. It’s… about a finger long?” he corrected himself a second later. “It’s pretty faint, though, and thin… barely a scar at all. Hard to see, especially in this light.”

Aden leaned away from her neck and Lexa let her hair fall back into place, her heart still racing in her chest as she tried to compose herself once more. She focused on taking deep breaths, somewhat reassured by Aden’s confirmation that there was, indeed, still a scar in the proper place, though it was apparently much fainter and better healed than it had been before. It was impossible for her to feel completely put at ease by his discovery, however, because it still didn’t explain the odd stillness she felt within her. The unusual _lack_ of something which had been a part of her for so long now that she hardly remembered what it had been like before to live without it.

Why hadn’t she noticed this sooner? There had been too much happening. She’d been distracted by her death, her confusion, and that other strange voice that seemed to be her own, whispering forbidden knowledge in her ear.

Lexa ignored Aden, though she knew he was watching her with concern. She centered herself, letting her body relax while at the same time, focusing her mind. She counted her breaths… In… Out… In… Out… Let herself fall inwards, searching… searching…

“ _Heda!”_ Aden’s voice, raised in alarm, caused her eyes to fly open.

“ _Heda_ , you’re bleeding!” he exclaimed, and she reached up, her hand coming away black with the blood that had been dripping from her nose. She stared at the dark blood for a moment, concerned, confused by her inability to connect with the spirit that lived within her…

… Then Lexa’s head exploded in sharp pain, her eyes rolling backwards in her skull as she abruptly passed out.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“You’ve done… what?” one of the Council member’s asked, the shock clear in his voice.

“At zero seven hundred hours this morning, we launched a dropship with one hundred criminals on board to the surface of the planet,” Jaha repeated, and in the silence that followed, Anya felt you could have heard a cockroach fart on the far side of the nuke-blasted planet below.

 _Goddamn it, Jaha,_ Anya thought. _I should have known!_

“Thelonious,” Councilman Brenner said agreeably, “Surely you are joking… The planet won’t be inhabitable for another four generations at least! You can’t expect us to believe you would seriously send a hundred people down there, wasting a valuable dropship in the process?”

“I can, and I did,” the Chancellor responded, and Anya’s teeth clenched at his serene, unaffected tone. The man was becoming seriously more and more unhinged, she thought, her fists clenching unseen under the table.

“The Ark is dying, people,” Jaha continued, “We all know this is true. We have only a few months of remaining oxygen, if we are lucky. If there was any chance the ground is safe for human life, we needed a way to find out, and removing a hundred people from the population now will at least buy us some more time.”

“But, Chancellor… Its suicide! No one could possibly survive down there. Not with those levels of radiation.”

“We can’t know that,” he replied sharply, “With the genetic modifications of the past three generations, it’s possible the radiation levels will be tolerable. But we shall soon find out, one way or another. We will be monitoring them and their vital signs closely. If it is safe for human life down there, then the rest of us could be on the ground in a month!”

Silence fell over the room at these words, the faces of the men and women grave and concerned around her.

“Chancellor?” Anya began, being the first to break the silence, “You said you sent one hundred criminals… But what criminals do you speak of? The only prisoners on the Ark are minors under the age of eighteen.”

Silence followed her words. All eyes in the room turned to Jaha.

“Yes,” he agreed, “They are. And if they succeed in surviving on the ground, then they will be pardoned for their crimes when their cases are reviewed.”

The room erupted into conversation at his words.

“You can’t be serious! They’re children, Jaha!”

“Many of them are good kids convicted of petty crimes, Chancellor. They would have been pardoned when they turned eighteen… You can’t just send them down there to die!”

“Ladies and gentlemen, please!” Jaha interrupted, raising both his hands to quiet them. “It is already done. The dropship landed safely almost an hour ago. Those _kids_ , as you call them, are convicted criminals, and they are already on the ground. Their sacrifice was necessary if the Ark was to survive. However,” he continued, his tone softening, “I hope just as much as each and every one of you that they do not come to serious harm. I believe, and there is compelling evidence to support this, that the ground is livable _right now_. If I didn’t, I would never have authorized this mission to go forward… Now. We must discuss how to handle the rumors that will no doubt be spreading, and make plans for how best to use the extra time the hundred have given us.”

The rest of the meeting passed fairly quickly, the majority of the Council members easily intimidated by Chancellor Jaha and the incredibly high stakes of the current situation. There was no easier way to silence objections than to remind people that the only other option might be the extinction of the human race. Anya lingered as the others each stood and departed, though she yearned to rush from the room and confirm what her worst fears were telling her was true.

“One hundred souls,” she said to Jaha once they were finally alone. “That’s a great many. Enough to nearly empty all of the sky box prisons, I should think… Were you at least able to avoid sending the very young?”

He studied her for a moment before responding, and she feared she had given something away in asking the question.

“There were exactly one hundred seats on the dropship, so one hundred people had to go. It was difficult, but we managed to avoid sending anyone with any serious medical conditions. That was about the only consideration we were able to make, however.”

Anya felt her chest tighten at his words though she forced herself not to visibly react, her heart telling her that what she feared had come to pass.

_Aden was on that dropship, I’m sure of it._

Another thought occurred to her. “And your son, Wells?” she asked, not hiding her surprise.

Jaha didn’t answer. He simply stared back at her, his brown eyes expressionless, and Anya knew. She wasn’t sure if knowing that he had sent his own son down to the surface to die along with the others impressed or repulsed her, but she had to admire the strength of his convictions. Thelonious Jaha, she realized, was incapable of doing anything in half measures.

“Well, then… May God have mercy on your soul,” she said, and walked from the room, leaving the Chancellor of the Ark alone behind her.

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Core Concerns

 

 

_Author’s Note:_

_Hey folks! So, a couple things… First, with regards to how the Artificial Intelligences, the Nightbloods, and the Commander’s A.I. chip work, you are probably going to start to notice this story diverge from the canon material as it airs on the show. This is intentional. Second, I am in no way a scientist… So, that being said, I apologize in advance if there are any serious, glaring science mistakes that you notice.  Please forgive me!_

_All that being said, I bet you can guess that this chapter is heavy on the explanations some of you have been so thirsty for. Hopefully it all makes just the right amount of sense! If you are completely lost, or just plain confused, or have any reckless theories, please feel free to share, and I will do my best to respond. Do keep in mind that for the sake of the story, I sometimes choose to keep certain things a mystery until the timing is juuust right ;)_

_As ever, thanks for reading this strange, weird little fic of mine!_

_-FlyUpInSKy_

 

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“You wanted to see me, Chancellor?”

Jaha looked up at him at his words, still seated at the round table in the center of the Council’s meeting room, the last of the councilors having only departed just minutes before.

“Kane… Yes, come in,” he said, gesturing him further into the room. Marcus stepped forward, pushing the heavy door closed behind him as he did so, and all sounds from the adjoining passage immediately ceased. The room was effectively a soundproof bunker within the Ark, with its own communications relays and emergency life support systems, and anything said within its circular walls was almost guaranteed to be private. After the rebellion of the Sydney stationers decades before, the added security measures put in place to ensure the core of the Ark government remained safe had seemed a necessary precaution.

“How did the Council react to the news of the dropship?” Marcus asked, joining the Chancellor at the table but remaining standing, his tone carefully even. He had already made his objections to the mission itself perfectly clear. Jaha knew where he stood on the matter, and raising the issue again now would only erode the Chancellor’s trust in him even further, potentially costing him his position. As the Ark’s current Chief of Security, it was Marcus who would become Chancellor _pro tempore_ if anything happened to the man, and he would remain so until an election could be held. Losing his position now because Jaha felt he could no longer trust him to support his agenda was something he couldn’t afford to let happen.

“They were surprised, to say the least,” Jaha admitted, “but they know the stakes here. Once I reminded them of that, they quickly fell in line.”

“Even Petrova?” Marcus asked, the formidable woman already in the forefront of his mind after their earlier confrontation.

“That’s actually one of the reasons I called you in here,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “That young unregistered boy you told me about yesterday… Were your officers able to get any useful information out of him before the dropship launched?”

“No, unfortunately,” Marcus replied, curious about what the boy had to do with Anya Petrova. “He was surprisingly stubborn… Didn’t say a word the entire time we had him in custody. I really would have preferred that you spoke with me first, Chancellor, before having him added to the dropship roster,” he added, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “I would have seen to it that we at least got a DNA sample from him before the launch… It will be very difficult now to discover who his family is, much less who else has been helping him all these years.”

“Trust me, Kane, I would rather not have sent him at all, but one of the others was disqualified for a medical condition and it was important we have healthy, normal subjects for monitoring. Medical needs to be able to evaluate them all from a relatively healthy baseline. It was either send him, or have an empty seat, and we couldn’t afford that either.”

“Understood,” he said, letting the argument lie. “So, what does this have to do with Anya?”

Jaha leaned back in his chair at this, a small, satisfied smile on his lips.

“I want you to begin investigating her in connection with the boy… Quietly, of course. We can’t have her or anyone from Polaris suspecting that we know she is involved, but I am confident now that she is. She knows something about the boy. Find out what that is, then report back to me,” he ordered.

“Of course, sir. I’ll look into it,” Marcus said, working hard to ignore the faint tickling of unease he felt at the idea of investigating the woman. He reminded himself that the Ark Charter was very clear in this case. Any person caught aiding and abetting, or concealing knowledge of, an unregistered, illegally born child was committing a capital crime, and the Ark’s very survival depended upon its people adhering absolutely to its laws. No exceptions.

“Was there anything else?”

“Yes. I want increased security on the remaining dropships and the Exodus from now on. Rumors of the dropship launch are spreading already. The last thing we need right now is for people to panic, and for there to be another incident like Sydney. We can’t afford to lose even one more dropship.”

“That’s probably wise,” Marcus agreed, “There was already a mob outside the Council chambers just a half an hour ago. I’ve increased our security readiness across the Ark and notified our crowd control detail to be ready, just in case.”

 “Good… I will also need a special detail created for security at Earth Monitoring… Make sure they are your most trustworthy officers, Marcus. It’s going to be our operational control center for communicating with and evaluating the kids on the planet’s surface. Other than your people from Security, the Council members, and the teams being assembled from Medical and Engineering, no one is to know about this mission yet. I need you and your people to help me keep a lid on this thing until we are ready to go public.”

“I’ll pick them each myself, Chancellor. We’ll keep this under wraps for as long as you need.”

Marcus paused, knowing that Jaha was about to dismiss him, but needing to broach one more topic before he did.

“Sir, about the population reduction… We should start preparing for it now. I know this isn’t an easy decision, but the longer we wait, the less time we are going to have to…”

Jaha interrupted him angrily.

“No. We’ve been over this, Kane… We still have at least a month, and the hundred have only just landed. Until we can say for certain that the ground isn’t safe, I won’t authorize any population reductions. Not until we have no choices left.”

“Sir, we _already_ don’t have a choice! No disrespect, but the dropship mission is a fool’s errand… and the longer we wait, the less chance we have of fixing the Ark in time to save the rest of us. Every day we wait is more people we will have to kill when the time comes… I don’t like it either, but this is about saving the human race!”

“I _am_ saving the human race!” Jaha replied harshly, something fervent and irrational gleaming for a moment in his dark eyes. Marcus bit back his retort, his frustration with the Chancellor rising with each and every day he failed to take the necessary action.

_None of us like this, but we don’t have the luxury of choices we like on the Ark… Why doesn’t Jaha see that? He’s risking the remaining existence of humanity on a pipe dream!_

“Now, you have your orders. That will be all, Kane.”

The Chief of Security didn’t reply, merely nodded his head once and turned on his heel, hurrying from the room before his self-control broke and he told the Chancellor what he was really thinking.

_This ship is sinking_ , he thought bitterly to himself as he strode down the hall, his shockstick swinging on his hip with every angry step.

_And that man is going to let all of us drown with it._

 

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At the rhythmic sound of knocking at the door, Sinclair set down the data pad he had been working on and hurried to open the hatch, relieved to see Anya waiting on the other side. 

“Ma’am, come in… I’ve got some good news! I haven’t found Lexa yet, but I did track her down on some of the security footage from last night. I’m still working on getting access to those prison records for Aden, and I know that’s the priority, but I think we should send a team down to look for her if…”

“Never mind that for right now, Sinclair,” Anya replied, interrupting him. He turned back to her, knowing her well enough to hear the slightest hint of distress in her voice.

“What is it?” he asked, “Did something happen during the Council meeting?”

“Yes… Remember that dropship diagnostic you were up all night performing?” she asked.

“Of course. Why?”

“Well, as it turns out, that wasn’t just a test. It was a pre-launch diagnostic. This morning, Jaha launched that dropship with one hundred juvenile prisoners onboard to the surface of the planet,” she explained, her voice bitter with anger and frustration.

“Juvenile prisoners?!” Sinclair exclaimed, sudden horror in his eyes, and she nodded yes in reply.

“On the dropship? The _same one_ from last night?... Oh no… Oh, no no no… Ma’am, this isn’t good… This _really_ isn’t good!”

“I know,” she agreed, her voice now weary. “I can’t be sure, but the Chancellor all but confirmed that Aden was on board… We’ve lost him, Sinclair! If he’s on the surface, there’s no way of ever getting him back. Even if he does survive somehow, it doesn’t matter… We’ve lost the last viable, alternate host we had left. This is a disaster.”

“No, you don’t understand!” he babbled, his eyes wide and disbelieving, “It’s Lexa!”

“What? What about Lexa?” she asked, finally noticing the true depth of the man’s distress.

“That’s what I was trying to tell you earlier,” he said, “I think I found Lexa on the security feeds from last night. It looks like she got a hold of a guard uniform somehow, and in the last footage I could find of her she was entering _that_ dropship!”

“What?! Why? Where did she go next?”

“No, ma’am,” he replied, his throat dry, “That’s just the thing… I think she never left.”

Anya closed her eyes and sucked in a sharp, ragged breath.

_And here I thought this day couldn’t possibly get any worse._

She opened her eyes, meeting Sinclair’s.

“Damnit… You’re absolutely sure? You’re positive she was still on it when it launched?”

“Well, I can’t say for sure, but she didn’t leave the dropship on any of the feeds I’ve been able to access. There _was_ a two hour blackout on the video this morning, so I suppose she could have left then, but after what you just told me…”

“Of course… They blacked out the cameras intentionally to hide the fact that they were loading the prisoners for launch. If she had tried to leave then, or they had found her in there, then she would be in custody now and I would have already been informed.”

Sinclair started to respond, halting his reply when the soft chime of her comm interrupted them. Seeing who it was making the call, Anya activated it, letting the voice of Polaris’ chief research scientist, Dr. Chambal, fill the small room.

“This isn’t really a good time, Doctor… If it isn’t important, can I get back to you?”

“You need to get down here, Ms. Petrova,” Chambal said urgently, foregoing a greeting.

“What is it?” she asked, her dread increasing with every second. First she finds that Aden, and now possibly Lexa, are no longer on the Ark, and then Dr. Chambal calls and needs to see her right away on Polaris? It couldn’t be a good sign, and it absolutely had to be related. Anya was a politician. She knew better than to believe in happy coincidences.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before, ma’am… We can’t talk over the comms. You need to come down to the core chamber right now. ”

“Alright, I’m on my way,” Anya said, closing the call and turning to Sinclair.

“Should I come with you?” he asked.

“No. Jaha is going to want you in Earth Monitoring, running the Engineering team. He’s setting it up as mission control for the kids on the planet. Get in there and see what you can find on Aden. He shouldn’t be hard to pick out… He’ll be the only one without a name.”

“Okay… And Lexa?”

“Let’s just pray that this isn’t what it looks like, and she didn’t stow away on the dropship after all. If she is with the kids, I’m sure someone will say something eventually, and then we’ll know for sure. I’m certain they left the dropship’s communications equipment intact, so they’ll be talking to them soon, if they aren’t already.”

“Understood, ma’am, and… I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, Sinclair,” she said, resting a hand on the tired man’s stooped shoulders.  “You’ve done well here. Now, see what you can do for our boy down there, but be careful. Let’s not tip Jaha off that we have any special interest.”

They parted ways, Sinclair to join his team supporting the surface mission and Anya heading to meet the doctor at his secure workstation at the center of Polaris. She felt herself relaxing somewhat as she left the rest of the Ark behind her for the safe familiarity of her own territory. Jaha’s reach couldn’t extend far within Polaris; the Special Amendment to the Charter granted them protection from unannounced searches, and only Polaris born security guards were allowed to patrol the station, most of whom were secretly loyal to her first and foremost.

_Please let this not be a fresh disaster_ , she prayed, making a conscious effort to appear in control and unhurried as she walked, knowing there were always eyes on her.

_Damn that girl… What could she possibly have been thinking?_ Anya fumed a moment later, a combination of disappointment, worry, and anger at her protégé making her hands clench into tight fists as she walked.

_After the headache you are causing me, Lexa, one way or another, I’m going to stripe your hide for this, even if I have to steal a dropship and come down there myself to do it!_

 

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In the dense, leafy undergrowth of the forest surrounding the dropship, Monty Green paused to suck in a lung full of air, the  moist scents of earth and growing things immediately transporting him back to his childhood on Farm station, reminding him of his parents. He reached down, brushing at a small, green plant growing in the shelter of a tall pine. He pulled out several of the little, shiny leaves, breaking one in half and smelling it experimentally before popping it in his mouth. 

_I knew it… another plant I recognize. There’s just so much down here!_ He thought happily to himself, in awe of all the greenery around him. So far, in his first half hour on the ground he had seen more types of plants, trees, and shrubs than he had ever seen growing up on the Ark.

_Dad’s going to be so excited to see all of this... I wonder how long it will be before the rest of the Ark is able to come down?_

Monty stood, stepping around a small stand of bushes, eyes searching the ground for more plants he could identify. He hopped up onto a large log and then down over the other side, surprised when he landed to see the young unregistered kid, Aden Black, stooped on the ground there. The kid whirled to face him at the sound of his landing, his body tensing into a defensive posture, his fists clenched as though he expected to have to fight someone.

“Woah, easy there, it’s just me,” Monty reassured him. Then, seeing the boy’s sister laying on the ground behind him, “Hey, what’s wrong with her?”

The boy didn’t say anything, but just kept staring back at him with a defiant expression. Monty took a couple steps closer, concerned now by the still, dark form of the young woman on the forest floor.

_Huh, she’s not moving… That can’t be good._

If possible, the kid tensed even more at his coming closer, and Monty held his hands up non-threateningly.

“Look, I just want to help… What happened? Is she okay?”

Aden glared at him for another breath, then glanced back down at his sister, and it was then that Monty could see the worry in him that was barely contained.

_Poor kid… He’s freaked out._

The boy looked back at him, his young face grave and looking far older than his years, though he seemed a bit relieved now to have someone else there offering to help.

“I’m not sure what’s wrong… She just passed out a minute ago. I’ve been trying to wake her up,” the kid explained, his voice surprisingly calm, and Monty stepped over to them, kneeling beside him to take a closer look at his sister. Her eyes were closed and her face did seem pale, but that wasn’t saying much, as all of them were relatively pale skinned due to the lack of much natural sunlight on the Ark. She had black, wet streaks of what Monty assumed was mostly dirt on her face, though it looked like her brother had been in the process of wiping it off when he found them.

“Do you know what’s wrong? Can you help her?” Aden asked, but Monty shook his head, frustrated by his ineptness.

“I don’t know… It could be a concussion, I guess. Do you think maybe she hit her head during the landing? She was stuffed inside the walls, after all. That couldn’t have been very safe.”

Aden didn’t reply, but instead moved to kneel next to his sister’s head, pulling down his sleeve and using it to very gently wipe away the rest of the black streaks from her face and lips. He had just finished doing so when, abruptly, the woman’s eyes shot open, the green orbs locking onto Monty’s unknown face beside her. With a suddenness and strength that shocked him, her hands shot out, shoving him backwards and off balance, causing him to land on his hind end several feet away. Before his butt even hit the ground she was on her feet, her features hard-set and ferocious, body coiled into an aggressive posture that reminded Monty of a wild animal about to attack.

_Holy crap!_ Monty thought as he sat there, stunned. _She’s fast!_

“Hey, easy! I was just trying to help you… Your brother was worried!”

She seemed to come back to herself and relaxed a bit at his words, a hand coming up to touch her head gingerly, wincing as she did so.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice a little unfriendly, but Monty felt he ought to forgive her a bit for it, seeing as she was obviously in some pain.

“Monty Green, from Farm Station. It’s Lexa, right? Lexa and Aden Black?”

She nodded, and Monty pulled himself back to his feet, rubbing his chest where she had struck him. He didn’t doubt there was going to be a bruise there later. The girl didn’t look very physically intimidating at first glance, but she sure did pack a punch.

“That’s so cool that you are brother and sister, by the way,” he told them, “I always wanted a sibling. I mean, Jasper has pretty much always been like a brother to me, but it’s not quite the same thing as having a _real_ brother, you know?”

He was babbling a little, he realized, slightly intimidated despite himself under the intense scrutiny of the Black’s combined gazes.

“Monty Green,” Lexa finally said, repeating his name thoughtfully, as though trying to decide if it was familiar, “Thank you for your aid, but I am perfectly fine now.”

  
She glanced at the plants in his hands briefly, then back to his face. He held them up to her and Aden. 

“Wintergreen?” he offered, “I found some earlier… It actually might make you feel better. It’s loaded with methyl salicylate, which is basically what aspirin is made out of. It’d be better boiled in a tea, though. It could definitely help you with that headache.”

They both frowned at him, their expressions of consternation so identical that he laughed.

“Sorry, hazard of the business… My parents grow most of the pharmaceuticals for the Ark. Botany runs in the family, I guess you could say.”

“You’re good with plants?” Lexa asked him with some interest, her voice a tad friendlier, “What about finding edible plants? That is a valuable skill to have.”

“Yeah, I suppose… I mean, medicinal herbs are really more my thing, if you know what I’m saying…,” from their lack of change in expression, he wasn’t sure that they did, “but I guess I’m pretty good with plants in general.”

“Hey, Monty, man! Where are you?” Jasper’s voice floated over to them from the direction of the dropship, searching for him in the trees.

“That’s Jasper, the sort-of brother I mentioned… He and I go way back. We got busted together, actually. I should probably go see what he wants.”

Monty turned away, heading back to the dropship, but then turned around again and stepped over to them, unceremoniously handing Aden the hand-full of wintergreen leaves he was still holding.

“Here, you can have this batch. There’s plenty more where that came from… I mean, just look around! Isn’t it incredible down here? It’s like we’ve landed in a dream…”

 

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Lexa and Aden watched the young man, Monty, walk away from them to rejoin his friend at the dropship. He’d been friendly, intelligent, helpful, and had a sort of delightful innocence and charm about him that reminded Lexa of all the reasons why she had always hoped for peace between the rest of the clans and _Skaikru_. Despite the atrocities they had committed towards the end, she had never truly lost sight of the fact that there were still people like Monty Green living in Arkadia. Those were the types of people that Clarke had been so desperate to save. Lexa couldn’t help but feel a little better after the reminder that there were good, decent Sky People, and that they were worth saving. 

“ _Heda_ , are you alright?” Aden asked her once Monty was far enough away not to overhear, his concern evident.

“I’m not sure,” she said dryly, rubbing her aching temple with one hand, “How long was I out?”

“Only a minute or so… Are you sure you’re okay? Monty said you might have hit your head during the landing.”

Lexa shook her head and immediately regretted making the motion. Her skull was pounding, and a dull ache was coursing up her spine and the back of her neck. Was the blackout and the pain she was feeling related to the strange silence she felt from the Commander’s spirit? She hoped it wasn’t, that Aden was right and she had merely struck her head during the chaos of the landing, but deep down she knew that was unlikely.

_The scar is still there… The flame is still inside me. It wouldn’t be removed unless I had died here, in this life. There must be some other explanation._

Lexa had only been in this world for a short time and already she was weary, so very weary of impossible questions for which she didn’t have answers. There was only one thing she could do, and that was set aside her worries as best she could and focus on dealing with the present situation. They needed to make plans and decide on a sensible course of action. Hopefully the explanations she sought would come eventually with time.

“I’ll be fine, Aden,” she told him, not wanting him to be distracted by worry for her, “Come on, let’s get back to the dropship. It looks like the others are starting to gather again. We need to see what they are planning to do now that they are here.”

“But… _Heda_ , why don’t we just slip away now while they are still distracted? It could be hours before they notice, and they’re hopeless in the woods, so it’s not like they could track us. We could be miles from here by nightfall!”

She hesitated, a part of her surprised by his suggestion. Why shouldn’t they leave now? She wasn’t beholden to these young people in this life, whatever her hopes and obligations towards _Skaikru_ might have been in the old. There was also the matter of discovering their purpose for being here, and the why and how of how they had come to cross space and time to arrive in this place as Aden and Lexa Black, brother and sister of the Ark. Certainly any answers to be had for their unexplained entry into this world were to be had in Polis, or among the clans? Not here, among children who knew nothing of the Commander’s spirit and its endless struggle against the Entity, or her own role in that struggle as the current _Heda_.

_More importantly… If I have spent my entire life on the Ark in this reality, then that must mean that the Commander’s spirit has been hidden among the stars for almost a hundred years. Who has been protecting the people here on the ground from the Entity’s influence during that time?_

This thought gave her pause. This world seemed familiar enough so far, but there was no telling what was truly different. Small changes could no doubt have grave consequences. How deep an impact had the changes she’d seen so far had in this life?

_If Aden and I came from the Ark, then the Ark must have some of the answers we seek... For all we know, Polis doesn’t even exist in this reality. Without the protection of the Commander, what is Polis but an abandoned tower in the wilderness? Even the clans themselves might be changed beyond all recognition, or not exist at all!_

“No, we will stay, for now at least. There is too much we don’t yet know about this world, and it’s possible the Ark has some answers. Until we know more, we can’t afford to make any hasty decisions. There’s no telling what else is different. We need to be ready for anything,” she told him, knowing he would need some explanation for her reasons, but not wanting to terrify the boy with all of her thoughts and speculations.

They returned to the dropship together, Lexa feeling a little better with each passing moment. As they approached, she saw a large, dark-skinned young man scale down one of the steep sides of the ship, his handsome face pinched with worry. Monty and another youth, who she supposed must be his friend Jasper, were waiting for him at the bottom.

“They’re fried,” he said to them the moment his feet hit the ground, and Lexa moved closer with Aden, curious.

“Half of one of the antenna arrays is missing, and most of the connectors are either burnt or destroyed completely. It’s a mess up there… It doesn’t look like something that can be easily fixed.”

“Well, that explains why the dropship’s radio has been dead since we landed,” Monty said, worry in his voice, “Without those comms, we can’t talk to the Ark… How are they supposed to know what’s happening to us down here?”

“Can’t you, I don’t know, rig something together?” Jasper asked, “C’mon, Monty, you’re a genius with tech… You can fix this, right?”

“I might be good with computers, but I can’t rebuild an antenna out of sticks and leaves, Jasper,” Monty replied with annoyance, the stress of true worry building in his voice.

_They’ve lost contact with the Ark_ , Lexa realized, surprised by her own understanding of the words and terms they were using.

“What do you think, Wells?” Jasper asked.

“I think this means it’s even more important that we head towards Mount Weather sooner, rather than later. We need those supplies, and it doesn’t do us any good to stay here if we can’t talk to the Ark. Maybe Mount Weather will have a working radio we can use.”

“Mount Weather would be a mistake.”

All three sets of eyes turned to regard her. Lexa cursed herself silently. She hadn’t meant to say anything, but when the big one, Wells, had mentioned going to Mount Weather, her growing sense of alarm hadn’t allowed her to stay silent. She may not truly be one of them, but that didn’t mean she wanted to see these kids put in cages and killed.

“Why? You got something against mountains?” Jasper asked, using humor to hide his confusion and unease, something she felt he probably did often. Wells was watching her with no little suspicion, and she suddenly had the strangest sense that he was familiar to her somehow. A memory flashed in her mind’s vision for a second, then was gone as quick as it had come. Wells, standing next to an older man – his father, she knew – on a small raised platform in one of the larger open spaces on the Ark. The Chancellor was giving his inaugural speech, his voice ringing across the gathered crowd, and Wells’ younger face was smiling and proud beside him.

_Another memory from Lexa Black on the Ark?_ She wondered, beginning to suspect that these surfacing memories were going to start becoming a regular thing. As long as they helped give her answers, she found she didn’t really mind all that much at the moment.

“Look, Wells,” she said, addressing the Chancellor’s son, sensing that if she convinced him then the others would follow his lead, “You have no way of knowing what’s in that mountain… You don’t even know what’s over the next hill! The mountain is miles from here at best. Go out there unprepared, without any knowledge of what could be out there, and you’ll just get yourselves killed.”

“Yeah, but we can’t just sit around here waiting to starve either, can we?” Monty answered instead, a concerned frown on his face, “I mean, I don’t like the idea of wandering through the wilderness either, but what’s the difference if we stay here and die anyways?”

A small crowd was starting to gather around their discussion by the dropship’s open ramp, as most of the young people had finally abandoned their carefree explorations of the forest and were now starting to wonder what they should be doing next. They were stranded without food or water, and news of the broken radio was already beginning to spread. The harsh realities of their situation were finally setting in, and Lexa could sense a new, thin edge of anxiety running through the young Sky People that hadn’t been there before.

Lexa ignored Monty, her eyes focused solely on Wells, waiting for his response. He was the natural leader of the three of them, it was clear. Already she could see the beginnings of people breaking into clumps and groups, forming small tribes within the larger whole. That would continue until a clear leader emerged among them, she knew, and until that happened, they would remain fractured and indecisive. Lexa didn’t know many specifics about what had happened among the Sky People who had landed with Clarke before they were captured by the mountain, but she had gained at least a small understanding during all her time spent in Clarke’s company. In her reality, it was Clarke and Bellamy who had risen up and eventually taken charge.

_But Clarke isn’t here… and neither is Bellamy. Without them, who here will the others choose to follow?_

Wells clearly had strong opinions and he was already acting on them, getting things done. It seemed likely that soon the others would start to follow his lead.

_And then there’s that twice-damned prisoner I can’t seem to get away from, Murphy,_ she recalled, remembering his voice rising above the others in the dropship, his leading the effort to open the door.

As though her thoughts had summoned him, Murphy appeared with a small coterie of followers, four large, brutish looking boys with mean, hard faces.

“What are we talking about? Oh wait, let me guess,” he said, thrusting himself into the center of the group, addressing Wells with a sneer, “We were trying to figure out how many of our friends and family your father had executed up on the Ark.”

There was some angry muttering through the crowd at this, and Lexa felt the mood shift from curious and anxious, to angry and hostile almost within a breath. She’d met people like Murphy before… Men and women so tormented, so bitter over the unfair course their lives had taken that they sought ways to make everyone else suffer just as much as they did. Their destructiveness had the tendency to draw everyone down with them, bringing out the worst in people rather than the best. Murphy was like a walking wound, and she wondered how much the rest would need to bleed before he was satisfied that their pain equaled his.

“My father is the one who sent me down here, the same as the rest of you,” Wells replied finally, not backing down under Murphy’s glare. He turned to the others. “Look, we _need_ to go to Mount Weather… There’s food, shelter and supplies there, and hopefully a radio we can use to talk to the Ark. We need to tell them that people can survive down here! That it’s safe to follow us down.”

“Why should I care about the Ark?” Murphy snarled, “Why should any of us care? They sent us down here to die! I say screw them, and screw Mount Weather. We’ll be just fine here on our own.”

Murphy stalked off at that and about a dozen people followed him as though pulled in his wake. Others started to wander away, sensing that the confrontation was over for now. A few remained, however, their eyes watching Lexa and Wells.

Ignoring the conversations around them, Wells stepped up to her, asking her in a low voice, “Can I speak to you in private?”

Lexa felt Aden tense next to her, but she ignored him, measuring the young man before her with her eyes. She gave a single tilt of her head in agreement, following him has he walked away into the relative privacy of the trees.

“No, stay here, Aden,” she instructed when she saw him start to follow her. The boy looked worried, his young face drawn and pale. As stressful as this day had been for her, she imagined it was far worse for him. She was accustomed to tense standoffs and uncertain, risky circumstances. This small political scuffle within the _Skaikru_ was making her feel more at home here than she had yet all day. The leadership squabbles of a group of teenagers was nothing when compared to bringing twelve bloodthirsty, power-hungry clan chiefs together into a single alliance.

When they were finally alone together, Wells turned to her, looking more apprehensive now than he had before when facing down Murphy.

“I know who you are, you know,” he said, and it was a battle to keep her face expressionless. Lexa didn’t say anything, preferring to wait him out. Clearly he felt he knew something about her, and whatever it was, he hadn’t wanted the others to overhear.

“You work for Anya Petrova, the Polaris Station Representative.”

Again, Lexa had to struggle to control her response, for his words had caused a flood of memories, some new, some old, to fill her mind.

_Anya… She’s alive!_ She realized, and the woman’s face in this reality immediately appeared before her, clean of war paint and subtly different somehow, though her eyes were still the same direct, challenging stare of the fierce warrior that Lexa remembered.

_And she’s on the Ark, but how is that possible?_

Wells was speaking again and Lexa pulled her thoughts away from her friend and teacher with some difficulty. Wells knew Lexa Black, it seemed, the person she apparently was in this life. She would need to tread very carefully.

“My father always said you were dangerous… That you were Petrova’s hatchetwoman. That she was grooming you to take her place as Station Representative for Polaris someday.”

Lexa stared back, not quite understanding him, but sensing that his words had a purpose, that he was testing her somehow. He seemed more intelligent, more mature than the other teens around them, and it was obvious that he had strong ideas about what needed to be done in order for them to survive.

“Anya was my mentor,” she agreed, not wanting to give away her lack of knowledge of what he spoke.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t ask one.”

He smiled slightly at her response, a certain respect for her forming in his eyes at her caginess. For a boy his size and build, she would have expected him to be used to getting his way through force, but she sensed a gentleness to him that surprised her. He was a man of words, she realized, not a boy who only knew how to throw his weight around and bully others to get his way. She valued this in a person, and she found, almost against her will, that she was also beginning to respect the young man before her. Someone of his character could prove to be a useful ally if he showed himself to be trustworthy.

“None of us will survive long down here if we don’t get organized… start making smart decisions,” he told her after a moment’s pause, shifting focus back to their more immediate concerns. “We need those supplies in Mount Weather. We can’t afford to act like stupid children, not down here. My father may have thought you were dangerous, but he also said you were smart… Prove to me that you are. Help me convince the others to go to Mount Weather. It’s the only way we will all survive until the rest of the people from the Ark come down.”

_… You may be a heartless, Lexa, but at least you’re smart…_

Clarke’s words echoed through her as he finished speaking, and Lexa nearly smiled. It felt like Clarke was everywhere here, and had been since the moment she arrived. Her invisible presence filled the dropship. Her friends, the ones she had suffered and sacrificed so much for, surrounded Lexa. It felt like she should be able to turn around and see her there, right behind her, wearing that earnest, stubborn look on her face that she always had when she felt Lexa could, or should, be doing better... _Be_ better.

These were her people. It didn’t feel right that she wasn’t here with them, helping them.

_It doesn’t feel right that she isn’t here, with me… Where are you, Clarke?_

“You seem convinced that the rest of the Ark will come,” she said to him, pulling herself back to the present. Now was not the time to get lost in sadness.

“Shouldn’t I be?” he asked, his gaze hardening, “You know, don’t you?… Petrova told you that the Ark is dying.”

It was almost a question, but he spoke it as a statement, as though he already knew the answer. She didn’t reply, just continued to watch him.

“That’s why I am down here, you know. I found out a month ago, tried to make it public. My father never was good at keeping his voice down. I overheard him arguing with Kane about population reductions… You know what that means, right? That’s why it’s so important we go to Mount Weather. We can’t count on the medical bracelets alone to prove to them that the ground is safe. We need to get in contact with the Ark again. It could save hundreds of lives!”

_He’s not wrong, but I can’t explain the real reason going to Mount Weather isn’t an option._

“I don’t disagree with you, Wells. In fact, your arguments are very valid. However, there are things you don’t know… Factors to be considered. I know things about Mount Weather, things that your father didn’t know when he instructed you to go there, and I can tell you that the mountain will not provide the aid you seek. If you truly wish to save the people of the Ark, then you must convince the others to remain here, and do what you can to preserve their lives. Let the medical bracelets do their job, and the Ark will soon realize the ground is safe.”

“What factors? What are you talking about?” Wells demanded.

“I cannot say,” she told him, her voice unwaveringly firm, “But you must trust me, Wells. The mountain is death. It will not help us. We must make do on our own.”

“Is this more Polaris secrets, then?” he asked, his voice disbelieving, “My father always said you Polaris stationers hoarded secrets, that you couldn’t be trusted… How could you possible know things about Mount Weather that the Chancellor of the Ark doesn’t?”

She didn’t answer. There was nothing she could truly say. Either Wells would decide in this moment to trust her, or he would decide not to. There was little else she could do to sway him.

“What about the people who will die on the Ark while they wait to decide whether or not it is safe to come down? We could stop that from happening… Are you telling me the risk is not worth saving possibly hundreds of lives?”

“Sacrifices must sometimes be made if we wish to survive, Wells. We can’t control what happens on the Ark, only what happens down here.”

“Unbelievable. You sound just like my father,” he sneered, but his anger lacked the strength of true conviction.

“Your father is a leader… Leaders don’t get the luxury of only making easy choices. I can see that you care, and your intentions are good. You need to trust that the people on the Ark will do what is necessary, while we must do the same down here as well.”

There was several moments of silence after her words, during which they both regarded each other warily. She watched him consider her words, battling with himself over whether or not he could trust her. It was a lot to ask, this sort of blind trust in the words of a near stranger, and she prepared herself for him to not accept them. She was therefore surprised by his next words.

“Okay, Ms. Black,” he said, releasing a heavy sigh, “It’s not that I trust you, it’s just that I know I will never be able to convince the others, not with you _and_ Murphy both going against me. I’ll stay here for now and see how things go, but that’s only so I can keep an eye on you both. I still think Mount Weather is our best chance.”

She nodded, appreciating his candor. He was an honest person, she realized, and honest people responded to honesty in return. No doubt, though he denied it, a part of him had sensed her honesty when she spoke of the mountain. His instincts were telling him that she was being truthful, but the stakes were high enough that he didn’t feel it was wise to trust them alone.

“It’s the right decision, Wells,” she told him, letting her voice soften a small amount. She liked him. In a way, he reminded her a little of Clarke in how he was so driven to do the right thing, to save everyone. She very much doubted he possessed Clarke’s brutal pragmatism and flexibility, however, or her unparalleled personal courage.

It was in that moment that she remembered, suddenly, Clarke’s story about a childhood misadventure involving too much alcohol and a friend named Wells.

“Can I ask you something?” she asked him.

“Sure, only seems fair… I did just kind of interrogate you.”

“On the Ark, did you ever know someone named Clarke?”

Wells frowned, shaking his head.

“I don’t think so… Why, who is he? Old boyfriend?” he said, smiling to himself at his own joke.

“No… they’re no one,” she replied shortly, turning her back to him so he couldn’t see her disappointment, her steps heavy with the sense of loss that was growing every moment as she walked beneath the thick forest shadows back to the dropship.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Anya stepped into the core chamber at the center of Polaris, sealing the door behind her. This modest space was without a doubt the most protected, most secure location on the entire Ark, though not many knew of it. In fact, she knew of only five people, including herself, who had even seen the inside of its walls, and only several more who even knew of its existence. This place was the secret, beating heart of Polaris – the station’s true purpose and reason for being – and Dr. Chambal was its current caretaker.

“Doctor, please tell me this is not going to be terrible news,” she said, approaching the dark haired, middle aged man where he was seated at his workstation with his back to her, his white lab coat pristine in the bright fluorescent lights. The man startled a bit and turned, his worried eyes meeting hers.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Ms. Petrova… Not today.”

Anya just nodded in reply, having already prepared herself for the worst during her trip down.

“As I told you over the comm, this is something I’ve never seen before… The data is completely unprecedented.”

Dr. Chambal waived her over and Anya approached, leaning over him to observe the screens he was presently viewing, the graphs and numbers displayed there making little sense to her.

“So, tell me what happened. You know I can’t read scientist.”

“Well, I’m not sure what did happen, exactly, but I _can_ tell you what I have observed,” he said, and Anya couldn’t help but grind her teeth at his obtuseness. And people thought politicians were difficult to get straight answers out of…

“Core calculations have almost completely ceased across the board,” the doctor explained, “Basic and higher level cognition functions have all dropped by over sixty percent… and they are _still_ falling. Every measurement of every type I have taken has been significantly, _significantly_ below all of our lowest previous baselines… It’s incredible! There isn’t any data of this type in any of our historical records. Not one previous example of a similar anomaly occurring like this, not in almost a hundred years, and not only is that alarming in itself, but I have absolutely no idea what has caused it!”

“When did this all start?” she asked, though a part of her suspected she already knew the answer to that question.

“Shortly after zero seven hundred hours this morning,” Dr. Chambal replied, and Anya closed her eyes, willing herself to remain calm. It was in her nature to go straight to anger in difficult situations, but useless rage over how circumstances were spiraling out of her control would not be helpful to them now.

“Well then, Doctor, you are in luck, because I think I can answer your “why” question for you.”

Dr. Chambal looked up at her with interested eyes, his brown skin sallow and tired looking in the unflattering light.

“At zero seven hundred hours this morning, it just so happens that a dropship was launched to the planet’s surface… and we believe Lexa Black was on it.”

The man sucked in a deep, alarmed breath, his eyes widening.

“Of course… Of course!” he exclaimed, turning back to his screens, “An interruption between the core chamber of the intelligence and its physical interface… That must be it!”

His fingers flew across the keys for several seconds, pulling up more pages of data, then he stopped, his eyes gaining that faraway look they got when he was concentrating very hard. Anya waited impatiently for several seconds then snapped her fingers twice to get his attention.

“Doctor, please! Talk to me… What’s happening? What does this mean? Is this because of Lexa leaving the Ark?” 

“Because of Lexa? Of course it’s because of Lexa! Lexa _is_ the intelligence. They are bonded on a subconscious _and_ conscious level… She is the physical interface for the artificial intelligence itself, its avatar in the real world, so to speak. What is physically here in the core chamber might be its brain and memory, to use a very simplified analogy, but it was fundamentally designed to be dependent upon a human host. Without that link to the host, the core can’t properly function, can’t access its own thinking and cognitive processes, and it’s quickly shutting down… If this continues, we could be looking at a system loss on a catastrophic scale!”

Anya blinked, taken aback by his unusually hyperbolic language. He was normally very dry and unexcited with his facts, pronouncing important new discoveries with a tone close to boredom.

“So what are you saying?” she asked, struggling to grasp what the scientist was telling her, “Are you suggesting that our one-of-a-kind, one hundred year old, world-saving artificial intelligence is going braindead?”

“In very simplified terms… yes, that’s exactly what it looks like.”

“And it’s all because Lexa slipped her leash and wandered too far away from it?” she asked, dumbfounded by what she was hearing.

“Yes… Well, no, actually, you’re right, it can’t be that simple. Rebecca designed the A.I. on a quantum mechanical level, after all… It’s extraordinarily complex, as I’ve told you before, and the most inexplicable aspect of it has always been the bridge chip itself. She spent years working on that piece of the technology alone, and she was already decades ahead of her time. I’ve always speculated that the apparent instantaneous communication between the chip and the core chamber was due to the quantum mechanical construction of the chip itself in…”

“Doctor, please,” she begged, “No sentence that included the words “quantum” and “mechanics” has ever ended well for me. I don’t need endless theories and speculation… I need something I can make plans off of. Give me your best case and worst case scenarios, please.”

“Best case scenario,” he mused, “Very well, but tell me one thing first. Was Lexa forced onto the dropship, or did she contrive to be on it when it launched of her own free will?”

“Why on earth does that matter?” Anya asked, baffled.

“It matters, because Lexa currently hosts the Polaris A.I., and the A.I. was therefore a part of any decisions she may have made, whether she was consciously aware of it or not.”

“Well, then, the answer is that we aren’t sure, exactly. Although, it does appear that she stole a guard uniform and stowed away on purpose when she discovered that Aden was being sent down with the other criminals.”

Dr. Chambal blanched at this news.

“Aden is also on the surface?!”

“Yes, but please, Doctor, let’s focus on one problem at a time. Best case scenario,” she insisted.

“Well, then, the best case scenario is something like this: Lexa is the physical extension of the Polaris A.I. itself, and for reasons of its own that we don’t yet understand, the A.I. wanted Lexa to go to the surface. If this is the case, then it either wasn’t aware of the effect this would have on itself, which I find highly unlikely, or it _was_ aware, and deemed the risk worth the reward. Or, alternatively, the effects we are seeing are in fact not accidental, but is the A.I. intentionally shutting its own self down for reasons we don’t or can’t understand.”

“ _That’s_ your best case scenario? The A.I. we have dedicated generations to protecting, the thing which is supposed to be our only hope for destroying A.L.I.E., has decided to commit willing suicide for mysterious reasons?” she asked incredulously.

“That isn’t exactly what I said,” he replied, a little testily.

“Fine. What’s the worst case?”

“Worst case is that Lexa herself, either ignoring or overcoming the A.I.’s influence entirely, boarded the dropship and went to the surface, at which point something has degraded or destroyed the ability of the bridge chip to communicate with the A.I.’s core her on Polaris, which is causing the catastrophic failures we are seeing… Now, I previously wouldn’t have thought it was possible for the chip to lose its instantaneous link with the core, not with the technology Rebecca pioneered, but I suppose there could be any number of reasons. Perhaps it’s due to effects caused by the gravity of the planet, for just one example. It’s almost impossible to say without being able to study the chip itself, however, so speculating is pretty much a useless gesture.”

Silence fell over them as Anya chewed over his words, her sense of helplessness rising as she thought the problem through from every possible angle.

“What about Lexa?” she asked.

“What?”

“Lexa,” she repeated, “If we are seeing these kinds of effects in the core up here, what is this doing to her?”

The doctor looked surprised by the question. He was always so consumed by the science of it all that he often seemed to forget there was a real, living, breathing human being whose life was inescapably linked to the secret technology they guarded.

“That’s an interesting thought... But I’m afraid we can’t be sure. It’s possible she hasn’t been effected at all. She had a fully functioning, independent brain and body long before we installed the chip, after all. However, it has since integrated with her brain stem and nervous system, and now that it isn’t receiving information and instructions from the core, I suppose it’s possible – probably likely, even – that it is having a negative effect. Headaches, at the very least. Maybe some issues with memory and vision. Any number of things. Again, without being able to observe her and the chip itself, I can’t say much with certainty.”

Anya nodded, unhappy that so much was left to speculation, but appreciating that there wasn’t much else they could do in this situation.

“Of course,” Dr. Chambal continued, his voice very serious, sounding as though he didn’t want to speak but couldn’t stop himself, “We are ignoring the very worst case of them all.”

“And what is that?”

“That at some time very shortly after zero seven hundred hours this morning, either on the dropship as suspected or somewhere else entirely, Lexa Black was killed, and the chip itself destroyed.”

Anya met his tired eyes with her own.

“For Lexa’s sake… for _all_ our sakes, let’s pray that you are wrong.”

 

 


	6. Our People

In the deep wood of a scarred and radiated Earth, clustered in groups of five and six around small campfires and huddled under makeshift blankets within the cold confines of the dropship, the one hundred young survivors from humanity’s Ark settled down for their first night on the planet’s surface, their eyes comforted by the familiarity of the stars in the night sky above. It had been a long and exhausting day for the teens, who had been torn from their beds in the early hours of the morning, and had since experienced the terrors of the dropship’s dangerous landing, the unknowns of the forest beyond, and the uncertainty of what might come in the days ahead as they must certainly struggle to survive. As tired as they were, however, many would not find comfort in sleep this first night, their minds too occupied with the fears, hopes and wonders of the past day to allow them to rest.

Lexa and Aden sat beside each other at a small campfire of their own, both quiet as they listened to the sounds of night settling over the _Skaikru_ camp. Occasional bursts of laughter or conversation could be heard winding through the trees, but otherwise it was mostly silent but for the hum of insects and crackle of the fire. Aden was cradled against the outstretched roots and gently sloping trunk of a nearby tree, his body slouched and fighting off sleep. Lexa watched him out of the corner of her eye, not wanting the boy to sense her attention. He was clearly exhausted, and she wanted him to get some sleep. He had been in a state of hyper alertness since waking to this place, and a young body could only take so much of that type of stress before collapsing.

Aden’s eyes finally slid shut and stayed closed, his breathing evening out as he slipped fully into sleep, and Lexa smiled, struck in that moment by a new memory from her life on the Ark. This time, rather than Wells or Anya, she saw a slightly younger Aden asleep in the single cot of the modest room they had shared. It wasn’t so much the vision itself that surprised her, but the emotions that came with it, ones of tenderness and affection. She had always felt some of this towards the boy, of course, though she had often fought off and repressed those feelings, but these were much stronger and more intense, and she felt the memory of them fill her heart and tighten the lump in her throat.

_Lexa Black loves her brother._

She knew this was true. Since finding Clarke, she had relearned what love felt like, and there was no doubt in her mind that what she was feeling for Aden _was_ love, though of a different type.

It terrified her. She’d never meant for this to happen. She’d never _wanted_ to love and lose again. It was hard enough right now dealing with the reality that she might never find Clarke in this place. Oddly enough, having Aden here with her was helping her stave off the grief and loneliness she felt whenever she thought about the other woman, but it also frightened her… What if she lost him, too?

Lexa turned her eyes back to the fire, fighting off the tears she now felt forming in them, not allowing them to fall by sheer force of will alone. She didn’t have time for this. She needed to be strong, to be the Commander. Maybe someday in the future, once things had calmed down and a measure of security and safety had been obtained for both of them, she would be able to allow herself to grieve fully over what had been lost, and to feel whatever she needed to feel… But not right now.

With that, Lexa pulled her attention away for the _Natblida_ boy and her precious memories of Clarke and back down to the pack she held in her hands. It was the same pack she had been wearing since she first awoke, and she had yet to look at its contents. Something had told her to wait until she was alone. That whatever was in the pack was not meant to be seen by other’s eyes, and so she had waited until the cover of nighttime to open it. She was relieved that no one had asked her about it during the course of the day, though she had seen Wells looking at it with curiosity more than once. After their confrontation in the woods, they had returned to the others together and begun to organize a thorough search of the dropship and surrounding areas for supplies. The canvas from the parachutes had been retrieved and bundled up for future use as tents. Firewood had been gathered and the dropship itself stripped of anything that might be useful. The more they worked to get organized, the more people slowly began to join them in their efforts without being asked. There was no better way to fight off the anxiety of the unknown than to keep busy, she knew, and everyone had seemed happier having something useful to do.

Glancing around to make sure they were truly alone, Lexa unbuckled the two outside straps and unzipped the pack, pulling it open to peer inside. There was a canteen filled with water and a small bag that held a lighter, matches, large folding knife, and a small mirror. There was also a small book, its cover a worn and nondescript brown, the pages filled with an indecipherable hand written scrawl. Lexa squinted at the words in the firelight, trying to make sense of them, but the letters squirmed and crawled in her vision, and were in no alphabet she had ever seen before.

 _A journal, perhaps?_ She wondered, turning the book over and over in her hands. It felt familiar, as though she had held it many times before. Her thumb rubbed across the name she saw scrawled on the bottom right side of the front cover.

_Becca… Who is Becca?_

Lexa half hoped that a memory might surface with a face or an explanation, but none did, and so she set the book aside with the other things, reaching in to pull more items from the small pack. What came next was just as baffling – a sealed plastic bag that contained a jumble of folded papers, the drawings, words and numbers on them just as confusing to her eyes as the journal had been. She shuffled through the papers for several minutes before stuffing them back into their protective case, sealing the bag carefully to keep out any moisture, something telling her that these papers were important somehow.

Lexa reached into the pack to retrieve the final item that was there, her fingers closing over a surprisingly heavy object wrapped in a soft, dark cloth. She pulled it out, setting it on her knees with a frown, then began to unwrap it carefully. When the cloth fell open and revealed what lay within, she nearly gasped in shock, her fingers freezing mid-motion.

There, balanced on her knees and shining darkly in the red and yellow glow of the fire, was a semi-automatic pistol. If anything so far had convinced her that she was living a very different life now than she had before, this heretical item in her possession now made it abundantly clear. Her chest ached with the remembered pain of the gunshot wound which had killed her, and her fingers and hands began to tremble, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps. Her mind immediately flashed back to her earlier death, to Clarke’s face above hers, pleading for her not to die. Unable to look at the weapon in front of her for a moment more, Lexa hastily re-wrapped it with the cloth she had found it in, then shoved it back into the bottom of the pack, feeling as though it was burning her hands to even touch it indirectly.

 _Who are you, Lexa Black?_ She asked herself, still shaking slightly from the flashback itself, as well as the unusual, uncontrolled panic she had felt at the sight of the pistol. _Why do I have this here, and what was I planning to do with it?_

No answers came, and Lexa felt herself slowly becoming calm again. Her unusually strong reaction to the pistol had unnerved her. Clearly her death was affecting her in more ways than one. This new irrational fear and revulsion felt like a weakness she couldn’t afford to have right now. Firearms may be heretical and forbidden technology, true, but a warrior couldn’t fear a weapon if they wished to be able to fight against it.

Lexa put all of the items she had discovered back into the pack, except for the folding knife, which she finally shoved into the top of her right boot after some consideration. She would need to make a sheath for the knife, and find a way to bind it so that it stayed open. A folded up knife, no matter how large or sharp, would do her no good if she needed it in a hurry.

The sound of crackling underbrush as someone approached made her look up and tense, her nerves on high alert now after discovering what exactly was in the pack. She relaxed slightly as she saw who it was, his handsome face smirking at her playfully as he came to stand across from her, holding his hands out to the fire.

“Finn… Where have you been?” she asked, just now realizing that she hadn’t seen him since stepping off of the dropship that morning.

“Around,” he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief, “There’s a whole world down here, you know.”

Lexa frowned at this, just the slightest downturn of her dark eyebrows. He’d been out exploring the forest, she knew, and the knowledge concerned her. She and Aden had not yet had the opportunity to slip away and scout the surrounding terrain. There could be any number of dangers close by, not to mention the mountain itself, and possibly even _Trikru_ villages. The last thing they needed was Finn stumbling into trouble and bringing it back to camp with him before they were ready.

“It’s not wise to wander by yourself, Finn,” she told him, her tone hard with censure, “You have no idea what is out there. Your actions put the whole camp in danger.”

He seemed a bit taken aback at her tone and criticism, his smile turning into a look of consternation.

“How can you be so serious all the time? Just look around! We’re on the ground… and it’s incredible! How can you not be at least a little curious to explore?” he asked her.

She couldn’t tell him the truth of course, so she answered with the best truth she could.

“It’s easy. I remember that all of the lives in this camp, the life of my brother, depend on us all making smart choices. One person is already dead, Finn… You saw just this morning what happens when you choose to be reckless. I would have thought the lesson would stay with you a little longer.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over them after she finished speaking. She watched him in the firelight, again wondering what Clarke had seen in this young man that was worth loving, worth sacrificing so much for. As of yet, she was less than impressed, though she did sense that there might be more to him than she had seen so far. Perhaps he would surprise her?

“You’re right,” he said finally, his eyes rising to meet hers, “I’ll try to be more careful.”

She didn’t say anything, just watched him warily. It was something, this admission of wrongdoing, but he still didn’t seem to grasp what she had been trying to tell him. Finn was not a leader like Clarke, or even the Chancellor’s son, Wells, was. He was still mostly only thinking of himself. That didn’t make him a bad person… just a normal one.

“It looks like you guys have been busy back here,” he said, changing the subject, “What’s the plan for tomorrow? Are we leaving for Mount Weather?”

“No, not yet,” said a new voice in the darkness, and Finn flinched in surprise as Wells stepped into the ring of firelight to join them. Lexa had heard his approach and therefore didn’t react at his words. She glanced at Aden, amused to see the slightest gleam from beneath his closed eyelids. He was awake now, she knew, watching them with slit eyes and pretending to be asleep, no doubt ready to jump to her aid if it looked like she needed it.

_Spirits, he is clever for one so young! He is going to excel when he goes through Conclave… If ever there was a Nightblood destined to be chosen by the Commander’s spirit, it’s him._

This thought of the Commander’s spirit, still silent and unreachable within her, brought back some of her earlier unease. She felt strangely adrift without the driving confidence and absolute surety that usually arose from the flame within her. It was unnerving making decisions without that warm assurance, that certainty that came from possessing the combined wisdom and experiences of all of the previous Commanders. As though for the first time since her Ascension, she was simply a young woman named _Leksa_ once more.

_If the spirit no longer speaks to me, am I still truly the Commander? Or am I only Lexa Black, child of the stars and daughter of the Ark?_

Finn and Wells were still discussing plans for the next day, and Lexa refocused her attention back on them when Finn asked her, “What do you think, Lexa?”

He looked at her expectantly, and she registered the annoyance on Wells’ face that he seemed to be deferring to her and not him. For her own part, she was just glad that he was using her name instead of the ridiculous nickname he had earlier used, though she doubted very much she had heard the last of it.

“Our focus tomorrow should be on obtaining a good source of water first, then on building better shelter. We can survive without food for many days, but water truly cannot wait. We also need to find a way to keep the others from wandering off too far on their own, at least until we have had a chance to more carefully search the surrounding area. There’s no telling what dangers might be in these woods.”

“I’ll go with you to look for water,” Finn offered, “I was pretty good at Earth Skills back on the Ark. Maybe I can help.”

Lexa nodded once, accepting his offer. If he was determined to go off and explore, it was better that he do so at her side where she could keep an eye on him. She might not yet be sure if she liked Finn, but Clarke wouldn’t have wanted him to get hurt. Plus, if he went off again on his own and stumbled into a _Trikru_ camp, he could unwittingly set of a chain of events that led to conflict and death. In her own reality, it was a series of deadly accidents, miscommunications, and poor decisions on both sides that had led to so much death and suffering. She was determined to see that the same did not occur this time around.

After adding more wood to the fire, they all settled down to sleep, and Lexa looked somewhat askance at them when the two boys chose to stay by her side instead of seeking out other company elsewhere. For Wells, she was sure it was mostly part of his pledge to “keep an eye on her”, but she wasn’t certain what Finn’s motivation was. For some inexplicable reason, he seemed inclined to give her his attention, to listen to her and consider her words with more seriousness than he did all of the others.

She wondered at this and other things as she lay beside the crackling fire, but like most things that day, she was unable to find the answers she sought. Finally, her eyes closed as her body and mind gave up their struggle, and Lexa Black fell into a restless sleep, her dreams chased by blue eyes and the longed for feeling of Clarke’s loving arms wrapped tight around her.

 

 

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“Alright, Sinclair,” the Chancellor said, and the surrounding hum of conversation and activity fell as all those in Earth Monitoring quieted so they could listen in, “Brief me on what has happened so far.”

“Well, sir, so far we have not yet been able to establish communications with the dropship, although we have been able to confirm that it’s not due to a failure on our end. It’s likely that the dropship suffered some damage during the landing which has caused the blackout, in which case it’s difficult to say if we will ever be able to reestablish a connection,” Sinclair briefed him, his voice even and professional despite the deep circles of fatigue under his tired eyes.

“Very well... Jackson. What can your medical team tell us?”

The young doctor stepped forward, his nervousness and excitement apparent as he addressed the Chancellor and assembled Council members.

“So far we are seeing extremely positive results. After the initial excitement of the landing, readings have normalized across the board. They are all beginning to show signs of light dehydration, but that is to be expected… There wasn’t much water on board and they likely ran out within the first few hours of landing yesterday.”

“And what about our one casualty?” Jaha asked, indicating the deceased signal on the giant screen before them where each of the hundred young people’s identity and vitals were displayed.

“We’ve determined that he was most likely a casualty of some type of accident during the landing. He flat lined very quickly, and was dead before they even touched ground, which effectively rules out the possibility of radiation poisoning as the cause of death.”

“Excellent,” the Chancellor breathed out, the excitement in his voice echoed by the palpable excitement in the room. The young prisoners had been on the surface of the planet for over twenty-four hours now, and so far only one had died. No signs of radiation sickness had yet to emerge, and everyone in the room was beginning to see the first glimmer of true hope.

“Dr. Jackson…Sir? You should take a look at this,” a voice called out anxiously, and all heads swiveled in its direction. “We just lost someone!”

“What?! What happened?” the doctor asked, rushing over to the display and pulling up the data for the young man who was now registering as deceased.

“I don’t know… His vitals were fine one moment, then there was a slight rise in heart rate, and then they just dropped off suddenly.”

Over the course of the next hour, they watched with growing horror as, one after another, at a pace that was so methodical that it was almost predictable down to the minute, vital signs continued to go black across the display. In the end, fourteen deaths occurred in an hour’s time, and a strangled hush now fell over the room.

“I don’t understand,” Dr. Jackson protested in confusion, “It doesn’t make any sense! They shouldn’t be dying this way.”

“But they are, Doctor,” Jaha ground out in reply, his voice nearly savage with the depth of his disappointment. “So do your job, and find out why.”

With that, he nearly stormed from the room, only pausing for a brief second on his way out, looking back at the hunched form of the Ark’s Chief Engineer.

“And Sinclair… for God’s sake man, take the next shift off and go get some sleep. There isn’t much else you can do here.”

“Yes sir,” he replied to the Chancellor’s back, his eyes meeting Anya’s across the room and seeing the hidden command there.

Sinclair sighed, not for the first time wishing that there weren’t so many people depending on him. He hadn’t slept in almost two days, and hadn’t seen his family in that time either, and it didn’t look like things were going to get much better any time soon.

 _Now to see what fresh disaster Anya has to share,_ he thought wearily as he shuffled from the room, wishing he could do nothing more than what the Chancellor had ordered, but knowing he was still needed elsewhere.

_Saving humanity for two different bosses sure is exhausting work..._

 

 

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“This is bullshit,” Raven Reyes declared, her fierce brown eyes boring into the guard who was blocking her way, completely unimpressed by how greatly his larger form dwarfed hers.

“I _just_ watched you come out of there… If there is a medical quarantine, then why weren’t you wearing a facemask, or a biological hazard suit? Why are all the air ducts between the rest of the Ark and the Sky Box prison still open?! You must think I am either blind or a complete idiot!”

The guard sweated and squirmed under her verbal barrage, his eyes rolling as he searched for someone, _anyone_ else to step in and take over the conversation. He certainly wasn’t the sharpest nail in the toolbox, and Raven Reyes was an expert at bullying information out of people when she wanted to. And she did want to, desperately. Today was visiting day, goddamn it, and she deserved some honest answers out of these people!

“I don’t care if you _are_ blind _or_ an idiot… I told you, no visitations today! You’ll just have to come back in a couple of months to see your lover boy when the quarantine is lifted. Now, it’s time for you to go,” the guard informed her, trying for intimidation but failing miserably.

“ _Lover_ boy?” she echoed incredulously, wanting to punch the self-satisfied smirk off of the stupid guard’s face. She stopped herself from doing so, but it was difficult. Raven had always had strong emotions. She loved hard, she hated hard, and she rarely held back what she was feeling, her brutal honesty having cost her more than one friendship in the past. But she was also incredibly smart, and far, far more intelligent than most people gave her credit for. Many people only saw her youth and good looks, and they fell victim to the terrible stereotype that someone as beautiful as she was couldn’t possibly be as smart as she claimed… But she _was_ as smart as she claimed, and that was the reason she was currently the youngest zero gravity mechanic on the Ark in over fifty years.

Fifty-two, to be exact.

Raven turned on her heel and stormed away from the secure entrance to the Ark’s only prison, all hope of seeing Finn that day now completely trashed. First there was the weird absence of damage she had noticed that morning while working nearby the dock where the dropship had, supposedly, been emergency launched the day before due to some kind of accident, and now there was this? A supposed medical quarantine of all the juvenile prisoners, but no medical personnel in sight and the guards all standing around like it was business as usual… Something wasn’t right, and her bright mind turned over the facts and details obsessively as she stormed back towards her own quarters.

_Something isn’t right here. They are hiding something, and I’m going to find out what._

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The heated sounds of an argument reached their ears as they approached the dropship camp, and Lexa and Finn shared a look of concern between them. They had risen early with the sun that morning, and after gathering the needed supplies, had wasted no time in setting out in search of water. Aden had joined them of course, but so had one other, a girl with dirty blond hair named Harper. She had seen them leaving and followed after them, asking if she could come along and help, and Lexa had considered carefully for a moment before nodding her approval. The girl had been helpful, if somewhat quiet and shy, the day before, and if they were going to remain among these people for much longer, then it was important that she begin to get a sense for who was dependable and who wasn’t.

Following the low, sloping terrain away from camp, it hadn’t taken long for them to find water, the sound of a small waterfall leading them to a little stream not a ten minute hike away. These mountains were abundant with streams, and it rained frequently this early in the spring, so Lexa was not surprised by their good fortune. They took several minutes to each drink their fill of the chill water and to wash the sweat and dirt from their faces, then filled the makeshift water bladders they had created out of cutting large squares of cloth from one of the parachutes and tying off the corners. The water immediately began to seep through and drip down their legs and backs as they carried them, but they would hold water long enough to get back to camp and share with the rest. Later they could work to devise a better method for holding the water they gathered from the stream.

As they approached the dropship and the sounds of shouting grew louder, Lexa handed her heavy burden of water over to Finn and strode with purpose towards the sizeable crowd that was gathered next to the central fire. As she pushed her way through, she again noticed the reaction people had to her, immediately stepping out of her way as soon as they noticed who it was. Perhaps it _was_ only the guard jacket, or the fact that as the only true adult among them, she had immediately become a figure of some authority in their eyes, but the truth was something both less tangible and more significant. Lexa had been in command, and commanded men and women in battle, for over six years. Without being conscious of it, she carried herself as someone who was in charge, and as someone who expected to be obeyed. It affected everyone around her on an almost instinctual level, whether they wanted it to or not, and for that reason she quickly parted the rowdy crowd and came to find herself at its center.

“What’s happening here, Wells?” she demanded, finding the young man standing there toe-to-toe with Murphy, both of their faces dark with anger.

“Well if it isn’t big sister, swooping in to save the day,” Murphy snarled, and it was only then that she saw the makeshift knife in his hand, gripped awkwardly with angry white knuckles as though he was readying himself to strike out at the other boy.

“Put that knife down, Murphy… Now,” she ordered, her voice crackling with authority. Murphy’s eyes rolled over to her, and a hushed, nervous silence fell over the watching Sky People as they all waited to see whether or not the volatile young man would obey her.

“Why should I? This isn’t any of your business, _sister_ … His father killed mine. It’s only fair I get to have a little justice of my own. What makes you think you get to tell me what to do? Just who in the hell do you think _you_ are, anyways?” Murphy spat out at her, his words rushing out of him with a furious, anguished haste. His eyes stared into her, the same tormented, tortured soul behind them which had stared into her own as she was shot in the back. His eyes carried her back to that moment, stealing her breath.

_Why must he be here?... Why must I be forced to look at him every day and remember my own death? He’s like a rabid animal, gnashing and biting at everything around him, a danger to us and a danger to himself. Wouldn’t it be best if I put him down right here and now, and save us all… save myself the agony?_

She took a step closer to him, her mind going to that cold, dark place it always went when she found herself in this type of situation. She rarely enjoyed taking another person’s life, but she had been doing it for a long time, and had needed to kill a great many people, and she found that once the decision had been made, she normally didn’t feel much of anything at all. It was as though the part of her that was _Leksa_ – the young woman who had hopes and dreams, who loved and wanted love in return – simply shut down and was locked away. She was _Heda_ , and sometimes that required her to set aside who she wished to be, and become what she must be for the good of her people.

A killer.

“I am the person who is going to _break_ that hand in three different places if you don’t drop that knife right… now,” she informed him, her voice cold and unhurried as she clearly annunciating each word.

Anya would have been proud of her delivery of the threat, she thought. The silence around them was now absolute, and even Wells had taken a step back from her, his previous anger with Murphy now transforming into worry, and perhaps, even, a touch of fear.

Murphy stepped towards her challengingly, his expression clearly disdainful, as though the idea of a woman being capable of doing as she claimed was something to laugh at. She felt her body tense, the controlled calm filling her, readying her for what must come next. A part of her reveled in this feeling, in the chance to release the violence contained within her. To her, Murphy was beginning to represent all of the bitterness and anger she felt over her own death, and she wanted nothing more than to erase him, and those feelings, from existence.

“That’s rich,” Murphy sneered, his grip on the knife tightening. “So you think because you’re wearing that jacket that it means you’re in charge here, huh? Well, that’s too bad, because I’m done taking orders. I’m done being a slave to the Ark.” He turned slightly, taking his attention off of her to address the rest of the crowd. “And I’m not the only one, am I? Aren’t we all sick and tired of someone telling us what…”

He never got a chance to finish his question, because the moment he took his focus totally off of her, Lexa moved forward with all the precision and fluidity of a striking rattlesnake. She ducked low and spun, her outstretched leg sweeping the boy from his feet before he had even noticed she had moved. His back hit the earth with a startled “oohf!”, both hands flying outwards in an attempt to catch his fall. The moment he hit the ground she was on him, one booted foot slamming into the side of his skull, dazing him, the other stomping down hard on the wrist of the hand still holding the knife. With the knee of the leg that had just struck his head, she dropped down and put pressure on his windpipe, her other foot still pinning his hand, and watched with satisfaction as his pale face first went red, then slightly purple as he struggled to breathe. His hand dropped the knife as he scrabbled and scratched the ground beneath her, legs and free arm flailing uselessly. With one hand she picked up his knife and flipped it into the nearby fire, not wanting anyone else to be able to pick it up and come to his aid.

“Jesus, Black! You’re killing him!” Wells exclaimed, alarm in his voice.

Lexa ignored him, and ignored also the rising sounds of confusion and alarm from the gathered crowd. Didn’t he understand? She needed to kill him… No, she wanted to. Wanted to remove him completely from her sight forever, so she would never again need to be reminded of her helplessness, of her failure, of how he had watched her being betrayed and shot in the back by a man she had trusted with her life. How he had looked down at her as she lay dying, pity and disgust in his eyes.

_I want to kill him… I want to kill him…!_

Lexa stood abruptly, releasing his throat and taking several steps away, and Murphy gasped and pulled in tortured breaths of air, nearly unconscious, the color slowly returning to his face. No one moved to help him. She wasn’t sure if it was because they didn’t care what happened to him, or because they now feared her too much to approach.

 _I want to kill him… But I don’t_ need _to kill him._

She took several deep, slow breaths, willing herself to calm down, a bit uncertain of what had just come over her. If it wasn’t for her complicated history with this young man, for everything he represented to her, would she have been so quick to decide that he needed to die?

_What would Clarke say if she could have seen me just now?_

Suddenly Lexa felt ashamed. She’d let her emotions control her. She had ached to get rid of Murphy from the moment she had seen him on the dropship, but it was wholly because of how he made her feel, and had little to do with anything he had actually done in this life. He was untrustworthy, clearly unstable and likely still dangerous, yes, but she had dealt with far worse people in her time, and it was nothing that she couldn’t overcome. The decision to go straight to killing him to remove any potential threat he represented had been purely a selfish one, and was not worthy of her or the Commander’s spirit she still carried, regardless of how quiet it had become within her.

She gathered herself, lifting her chin and facing the crowd, needing now to salvage this situation as best she could. Everyone’s eyes were still on her, some with fear, some with revulsion, and not a few glowing with excitement and awe over the swift and brutal violence they had just witnessed.

“Let there be no mistake,” she told them, thinking carefully over her words before she spoke, her voice loud enough to carry, “Any person who threatens violence against another in this camp will be answering to me… and I will not be gentle.” The eyes of the crowd stared back at her, not a person, not even Wells or Finn, interrupting. She continued, “You are children no longer, and this is not the Ark. If we wish to survive down here, then these childish games must _stop_. Many of you don’t know me, just as I don’t know many of you, but that changes today. From now on, we are one people. We will work together, and we will _survive together_. Any of you who can’t accept that, who think you are better off on your own, doing whatever you wish… grab your things and leave this camp right now.”

No one moved. A few, those who had taken to following Murphy around the day before, looked sideways at each other, each waiting to see who would be the first to challenge her. After an awkward minute passed and not a person made to leave or step forward, Lexa relaxed her posture and let her arms come to rest clasped behind her back, not for the first time wishing that she had her sword at her hip so that she could grip its handle as she was accustomed too.

“Alright then. Now that we all agree that we are working together from now on… Wells, what was happening here?” she asked, gesturing with one hand towards the small stack of medical bracelets that was off to one side. Clearly this had been the cause of the confrontation she had just interrupted.

“Murphy and some of his… friends, decided to take off their wrist bands. Said they wouldn’t be shackled like prisoners anymore. They want the Ark to think they are dead,” he answered readily, but his tone and expression worried her.

Clearly the tentative trust and mutual respect which had been building between them had been greatly damaged by her actions just now. Wells had never fully trusted her, or her motives, and now he felt justified in his earlier assertion that she was dangerous. She could see him second guessing himself now, wondering if he had made the wrong choice the day before. If ever there had been a chance for him to convince the others to come with him to Mount Weather, then that moment had clearly just passed. In one swift act of violence, she had asserted control and authority over the young Sky People of the camp, and it would be some time before any of them would seriously challenge her. Such demonstrations only did work for a short time, however. She would need to quickly prove to them that she was worth following, otherwise all the violence in the world would not secure their continued respect. These were lessons of leadership that Lexa had learned at a young age, and learned well.

“Wells, why don’t you tell them all what you told me earlier,” she suggested, hoping that this might be an olive branch of a sort. She wanted to show him that her intention was to work with him, not against him, to protect the people of this camp. That she still understood the stakes involved.

“The Ark is dying,” Wells told the crowd, passion rising in his voice as he went on to explain the truth of the circumstances which had brought them to the ground. How people on the Ark, perhaps even their friends and families, might soon be sacrificed to extend the life support a few more months. How without working communications, the medical bracelets were the only way they had of proving to the Ark that the ground was safe.

“Unless you wish to claim responsibility for the deaths of hundreds, maybe even thousands of lives, the wrist bands stay on,” she told the crowd when he finished speaking, and she felt little resistance from them, most of the teens appearing to be shocked and concerned over the news of the Ark. Those who had already removed theirs rubbed their bare wrists worriedly, no doubt wondering if she was going to come after them somehow for having taken them off.

“As for these,” she said, brushing the pile of removed bracelets with her foot, “What’s done is done. Perhaps some use can be made of them.”

Monty Green stepped forward, his face a bit apprehensive as he drew her attention with a raised hand.

“I’ll take those, if you don’t mind,” he said, “Maybe I can use them to find a way to get in contact with the Ark. They’re sending some type of signal that the Ark can read, obviously, so there’s got to be some way to use that.”

She nodded, stepping aside so that he could gather them up in his thin arms.

“Good, and as for the rest of us,” she addressed the crowd again, “You’ll be happy to know that we found water this morning, but there is still much to be done.”

The rest of the morning and early afternoon went quickly, and again she worked with Wells to divide up the labor of the camp, some gathering wood, others working to construct tents out of the salvaged fabric, and still others retrieving water and constructing a holding tank near the dropship to keep it in. Aden stayed close by her side, silent and watchful, as she moved among the Sky People, directing their efforts and offering advice when asked. Wells also kept relatively close, his eyes following her distrustfully. Despite how busy she was, it didn’t fail to escape her notice that, once again, Finn had disappeared, likely exploring beyond the camp on his own again. The moment they had a free second to themselves, Lexa pulled Aden aside and spoke to him in low tones.

“We can’t wait much longer to find out what is around us here. Tonight, once everyone is asleep, you and I will sneak away from camp and scout the surrounding woods. There was a small _Trikru_ village fairly close to the dropship, I remember… We’ll start searching there. It’s time we tried to find some answers.”

Aden nodded his agreement, but she sensed a hesitation in him, as though he was holding himself back from speaking. Rather than return to the others immediately, Lexa paused, considering him.

“What is it, Aden?” she asked, hoping to coax him into saying whatever it was he was thinking. The boy really did need to become more confident, more outspoken in his thoughts and opinions with her. It was partly because he respected her and held her in such high regard, she knew, that he didn’t often speak his mind to her, but she needed him to. They were all each other had here, after all.

“We are in this together, remember?” she told him, smiling slightly at his young, serious face. “You should speak your mind.”

“It’s just that I don’t understand, _Heda_ ,” he said after a few seconds, his eyes meeting hers.

“Don’t understand what?”

“I don’t understand why you are helping them… Why you are working to save the lives of the _Skaikru_ on the Ark. You told them we must act as one people if we are to survive together, but they are _not_ our people, _Heda_. After the massacre… after everything they have done, why are you trying to save them still?”

She didn’t answer him right away, but instead carefully thought over her words. This was an important conversation, and perhaps a valuable lesson, and she wanted to lead him to it on his own rather than simply tell him the answer. It was important that he understand this for when he himself was Commander someday.

“Tell me something, Aden… Have you been remembering the life you lived on the Ark, and who you are as Aden Black?”

The boy’s face turned pensive, and he nodded.

“What exactly do you remember?”

“It’s all mostly the same,” he told her, “I’m always in the same couple of rooms, either with you or another woman named Anya, and I know I’m not often allowed to leave… That if I were to leave and someone from _Skaikru_ were to see me, then I would likely become a prisoner and you and the other woman would be executed for helping me.”

Well, that certainly helped explain some of her own memories, as well as his presence among the young prisoners of the Ark, but it was hardly helpful for what she had wished to demonstrate.

“I’ve also been remembering,” she told him, and he did not look at all surprised at her words. “Though it may seem strange to us, in this life, Lexa and Aden Black _are_ part of the Sky People… But that’s not why I am doing all of the things you said. The reasons are in fact much simpler, and much more important.”

She paused, again considering her words carefully.

“Do you remember the vow I asked you to make to Clarke, just before my duel with Prince Roan?” she asked, continuing when the boy said that he did, “Well, I also made a vow of my own. I vowed that I would treat _Skaikru_ as though they were my own people. I have sometimes been forced to go back on my promises in the past in order to protect the people of the twelve clans, but each time I have done so, it was not an act befitting the Commander’s spirit, and I have regretted breaking each and every one of those promises. This vow that I made… it is important to me, and I refuse to break it. Even if this is no longer the world we’ve known… Even if they do not want my protection, I swore to treat the Sky People as my people, and I will continue to do so until this body no longer draws breath and the Commander’s spirit passes to another.”

Aden continued to look at her as she spoke, his young face contemplative and far too old for his years.

“Did she ask you to make this vow?” he asked solemnly and much to her surprise, the question revealing a greater depth of understanding regarding her complicated relationship with Clarke than it had ever before occurred to her that he possessed.

 _Am I so transparent to him, then?_ She wondered.

“No, it was not asked for, but freely given… and I would give it again.”

“But what about our people?”

This she knew how to answer, the certainty filling her almost as if the Commander’s spirit was speaking through her again.

“Aden, do you remember the first tenant of the Commander?” she asked, and his reply was swift, as this was an easy answer and one of the first lessons a _Natblida_ child learned.

“Of course _Heda_. The sacred purpose of the Commander is to protect all of humanity from the evil which wishes to enslave it,” he recited, a light of faint understanding beginning to spark in his eyes at his own words.

“Exactly, Aden. To protect _all_ of humanity. That is the burden of the Commander; the reason the spirit exists in this world. Not just the twelve clans, or even the thirteen, but _all_.”

She stepped over to him, placing her hands on his shoulders, smiling at him as she saw that he was, truly, beginning to comprehend her.

“So you see… _Skaikru_ , the people on the Ark, they _are_ our people. It has always been my duty to save them all, and when you become the Commander, it will be yours as well.”

They walked back together several minutes later to rejoin the others, united now in purpose and in spirit, a new understanding and shared goal between them.

_As I vowed once, I vow again… I will protect our people just as I promised you, Clarke… Always._

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_Author's note:_

_Well, there you go, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Lexa couldn't make it more than a day before taking charge, but that can't be much of a surprise! I might need to write in more excuses for her to kick people's ass, however... It was strangely satisfying to let her beat down Murphy a bit. You don't mess with the Commander, Murphy... geesh._

_But Raven! I get to write Raven now! I am thrilled she's here (finally). Should be lots more of her spunky mechanic self next chapter. Don't worry, there is a Clarke focused chapter soon to come, so we will finally get to see what she has been up to in this life. It's Clarke though, so it will be badass no matter what, I am sure. I already know exactly what she is doing, of course, and am looking forward to writing it (*smiles mysteriously*)._

_Let me know if you are still onboard for this strange science fiction romp! I know it's a bit light on the fluff and romance so far, but hopefully you will feel suitably rewarded in future chapters. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to comment and subscribe. I appreciate you wonderful people!_

_\- FlyUpInSky_

 

 

 


	7. Plans and Perils

 

 

_Author’s Note:_

_Hello friends! So, this post is a little shorter than I prefer for my chapters, for which I apologize. The good news is that this chapter is short because the next one is going to be pretty lengthy, and it just wasn’t possible to fit it all in the way I wanted to write it at the end of this chapter without making it ridiculously long... Lexa has a very, very busy night ahead of her, and I wanted to be able to tell that story in one cohesive, standalone chapter. You should all get your fill of badass Lexa being badass next chapter, so please don’t be too sad. :)_

_Anyways, enough excuses, I hope you enjoy it even though it’s a bit short. Now, back to the Ark!_

_-FlyUpInSky_

 

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In a large and mostly featureless room deep within Polaris, a place which very few people living or dead had ever seen, the sleek, oblong shape of the core chamber filled the slightly depressed floor at the room’s center. It seemed to rest there, quiet and opaque, its smooth white surfaces and thick black glass gleaming in the dimmed lights of the room. It was large and vaguely circular, its widest point more than ten meters across, and overall it looked thoroughly alien in appearance. Nothing on its outer surface revealed what lie within, and what few small glowing lights and seams marred its nearly perfect shell gave nothing of its purpose away to the casual eye. Much about the core chamber itself, despite the years and years of intense study made of it by a select few, remained largely a mystery… As did its creator and first human host, Dr. Rebecca Marchesi.

When Anya entered the room she found both Sinclair and Dr. Chambal waiting for her, both men standing before the core and regarding it thoughtfully in the near darkness. For the sake of appearances, and because her paranoia was a finely tuned instrument that had saved her neck many times before, Anya had waited for a while before leaving Earth Monitoring to follow after Sinclair. There was no reason to rush after him and raise suspicions. She knew she would find him here, after all, and a small part of her had not wanted to have to listen to Dr. Chambal’s dire pronouncements a second time.

“Did you tell him?” she asked, and the doctor nodded solemnly. He looked tired, but not nearly as tired as the Chief Engineer did, and not half as weary as she felt deep inside. The past forty-eight hours had been the most disheartening and frustrating of her entire life. Not only had she lost Aden and Lexa, two people whom she cared about deeply, but she was also facing the complete derailment of her entire life’s work. She was responsible for Polaris, as well as protecting the legacy of the artificial intelligence it was home to, and now it appeared as though she might have failed in that duty. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but, as ever, Anya was not the type of person to simply give up. She was too stubborn, and that was why she was here now and not getting some much needed rest, or drowning her woes in a nice bottle of black market vodka.

“Good, so now all of us understand just how serious the situation is.”

She crossed the room, coming to stand next to the two men by the core, not looking at it as they were, but rather studying both of their faces carefully.

“Any change here?” she asked.

“Some,” Dr. Chambal informed her, still not looking her in the eye, “The readings are all still dropping, but at a slower rate now. Of course, that hardly matters, as we hit near rock bottom hours ago already. As far as I can tell, the artificial intelligence is now in an almost complete vegetative state, to use another imperfect human analogy, that is.”

Sinclair was not looking at her either, and she felt her ire rising at the air of despondency she sensed growing in the room.

_They’re tired… and they’re giving up_ , she thought, the realization immediately igniting her renowned temper.

Anya Petrova loathed giving up… Rather, she detested it when _others_ gave up. She couldn’t actually remember ever having done so herself, personally.

“Fine, then there is no sense standing around here, staring at it and waiting for conditions to miraculously change. It’s time for us to come up with a plan, gentlemen, and I need your help to do it,” she informed them, the poorly concealed annoyance in her voice succeeding in finally capturing their full attention.

“Ma’am, with all due respect,” Sinclair began, a note of tired pleading in his voice, “What can we honestly do at this point? The doctor tells me that the Polaris A.I. itself has essentially shut down. The only likely way to possibly revive it would be by making a new bridge chip, which no living person knows how to make, and which would be useless anyways as we no longer have any viable hosts left on the Ark… The last two living hosts, Lexa and Aden, are both trapped on the planet’s surface. We can’t even be sure Lexa is still alive! What’s more, even if they do both manage to survive for longer than a few days, it doesn’t matter because it’s impossible to retrieve them and bring them back to the Ark… Hell, we can’t even _talk_ to them at this point! What do you suggest we do, exactly?”

The doctor was nodding as Sinclair spoke, his expression defeated. Anya glared at both of the men, her own frustration over what had occurred coloring her voice as she spoke.

“So we find a way to get the goddamn communications with the dropship _fixed_!” she growled, “Then we talk to Lexa, find out why _the hell_ she got on that dropship in the first place, and what she and that damn A.I. were planning, and then figure out how to fix it! You are both educated men… You’re _supposed_ to be problem solvers, to be able to think outside the box, so why don’t you use the brains God gave you and help me figure this problem out!”

Both men appeared slightly taken aback by her outburst and Anya forced herself to take a calming breath, knowing that her anger was mostly with the hopeless situation itself and not the two men before her. Regardless, her passionate words and ferocious glare had the desired effect, as they both exchanged sheepish looks and muttered apologies and promises to help.

“Alright, then,” she said, crossing over to the room’s sole table, taking a seat on one of the four chairs anchored around it and gesturing for the two men to join her.

“So, the communications issue… That seems like the logical place to start. There’s no chance of learning anything useful that will help us fix our broken A.I. if we can’t at least talk to Lexa. She’s this thing’s physical interface, right? She has to know something. I heard you brief Jaha, so I understand that it’s the dropship that’s causing the lost comms. What would be needed to fix it? Is it something the kids might be able to figure out on their own?”

“It’s hard to say,” Sinclair admitted, taking the seat across from her. “I recruited one of the inmates, Green, into Engineering just before he was arrested. He would be capable of fixing a minor issue, I believe, but there’s no telling what the true cause of the blackout is. If it’s due to physical damage, then the chances of them fixing it on their own are almost zero. We didn’t send any tools or extra supplies of that sort with them on the dropship. It’s impossible to fix something if you don’t have the parts.”

Anya considered this for a moment, then asked, “Well, then, how do we get them the supplies they need?”

Sinclair frowned, as though the idea had never occurred to him.

“Hmm, well, to be honest… We hadn’t really considered that,” he admitted, a hint of interest bringing some life back into his face. “I mean, we don’t have any small landing vehicles that could deliver supplies like that to the planet’s surface, and building something like that from scratch would be difficult, not to mention time consuming. It could take months to construct. We don’t have that kind of time.”

“Couldn’t we, I don’t know, just gently crash something nearby?” she asked, feeling a little foolish as she asked the question. She saw the two men share an amused glance at her words.

_I’m a politician, damn it, not a rocket scientist!_

“Gently crash something from orbit?” Sinclair echoed with just a hint of humor, a small smile turning up the corners of his lips. “No, I don’t think that would work, ma’am. Anything we crashed on the surface would be almost completely destroyed. It’s doubtful they would even find the wreckage, much less be able to salvage any useable parts from it for repairs.”

A contemplative silence fell over the room and Anya could feel her earlier aggravation returning. No matter which way she turned these last couple of days, there only seemed to be more roadblocks confronting her. There was _always_ another solution. A fix to any problem. She had always found this to be true in the past. Where others failed, Anya delivered. It was this underlying philosophy that was part of the reason why she had succeeded in rising to power so quickly on the Ark while still relatively young.

_There has to be a solution we’re just not seeing…_

“What about the old emergency escape pod?” Dr. Chambal asked, surprising them both by joining the conversation.

“Escape pod?... What escape pod?” the other man asked, a note of disbelief in his voice.

“The one here on Polaris, of course.”

Sinclair looked stunned at his words, excitement slowly building on his face as he considered them. Anya held her breath, hope returning to her as she watched the intelligent man’s mind work.

“Of course… Of course! That’s genius, doctor! The Polaris escape pod is perfect… It will need repairs, obviously, before it’s safe to use, but it has a guided landing system and should go exactly where we tell it to. Also, it’s a two person pod, so there should be plenty of room to put everything you could possibly need to build a working radio on the surface… Hell, there’s probably room enough to even send a person down with it, if we wanted.”

Sinclair was almost bursting with renewed energy by the time he finished speaking, and the mood in the room immediately lifted to one of relief.

“So that would work?” Anya asked, though she knew from his expression that he was already embracing the plan.

“Yes, I think so… And what’s even better, the rest of the Ark doesn’t know about the Polaris pod. It’s completely off the grid! That’s why even I didn’t think of it right away… I forgot it even existed. Depending upon the timing of when we launch the pod, we might get away with concealing the fact that we did anything at all, and the rest of the Ark won’t have a clue!”

“Maybe, but they will figure out _something_ has happened when the kids suddenly have a working radio,” she reminded him. “Depending upon who goes down with it, we might be able to conceal our involvement and confuse them for a little while, but the truth will come out eventually.”

“To echo what you told me earlier, Ms. Petrova,” Dr. Chambal intoned, “One problem at a time, please.”

All three chuckled at this, their humor dry and short lived.

“How long will it take you to get the escape pod ready?” she asked, looking to the Chief Engineer.

“By myself?” he asked, frowning, “I don’t know… I might not be able to do it on my own. I’m already on full shifts monitoring the surface mission, and even I need to sleep eventually. I’ll have to take a look at it, run some diagnostics. It’s been sitting unused for a hundred years, and who knows when the last time someone serviced it was. It could take some serious work to get it space worthy, let alone landing survivable.”

“So you’re saying you need outside help, then?” Anya asked, concerned by the very suggestion. They had succeeded in keeping Polaris’ secrets undiscovered for almost a hundred years purely by trusting very, very few people. Anyone brought in to work on the escape pod might start to ask the wrong sorts of questions. The last thing they needed on top of all their other current troubles was a nosy mechanic looking for answers in the wrong places.

“Yes, but… I think I know the perfect person for this job.”

“Really? Who is this perfect person? Not one of your idiot grease monkeys, I should hope.”

“No, she’s no idiot, and we should be able to trust her, I think… She owes me. I got her into the zero-G program after the medical board disqualified her for a heart defect. Also, now that I think about it, her boyfriend is one of the prisoners they sent to the ground, though I suppose she doesn’t know that yet. She’s smart, though. She’s probably the best mechanic on the Ark, to be honest… but don’t tell her I said that. She’s already got a big enough attitude as it is. Lucky for us, she also doesn’t mind bending the rules a little bit… You will like her,” he told her, and Anya raised an eyebrow at his assertion.

“What’s this wonder mechanic’s name, then?” she asked.

“Raven Reyes.”

 

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In her cramped single room tucked in one of the less favorable corners of Alpha station, Raven slouched onto her cot’s thin mattress, bending with a tired groan to pull off her left boot and let it fall to the floor. She’d been following Council members and listening in doorways all day long, and she was exhausted from the strain and stress of it all. After her second time being chased away from Earth Monitoring by the same harried guard, Raven had finally given up for the day and returned home. The Council was keeping secrets, she knew, and it was too much of a coincidence that the Ark’s primary control room for monitoring the surface was now both heavily guarded _and_ being frequently visited by the Chancellor and members of the Council so shortly after the mysterious, “accidental” launch of a dropship. That, coupled with the so-called quarantine of the prisoners, was making her exceedingly anxious. She needed to know that Finn was okay, and all of her instincts were telling her that the quarantine, the dropship launch, and the heightened activity at Earth Monitoring were all related somehow.

Raven startled when a sharp knock sounded at her door, and after a moment’s pause, she rose to answer it, limping across the room with the awkward gait created by her single boot. When she opened it and saw who it was waiting for her on the other side, she said the only reasonable thing a person in her situation could say.

“Oh, crap...”

The woman before her raised one perfect eyebrow, the harsh angles of her stern face made even more extreme by the slanted shadows cast by the one lightbulb still working above her door.

“Raven Reyes, I presume?” the Councilwoman asked, and then Raven was forced aside as Anya Petrova, Senior Station Representative of Polaris, stepped past her and into her room. The woman stopped only when she reached the foot of her bed against the far wall. She turned to face Raven and let her eyes make a slow circuit of her surroundings, their gaze seeming to weigh and measure everything all at once. Raven went from surprised to see her, to angry at the intrusion within the span of a heartbeat.

“The hell?!... What are _you_ doing here?” she asked, stepping towards the woman with a challenging glare.

_This is crazy… What is a member of the Council doing here? Did they already notice me poking around and asking questions today? This can’t be good!_

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Anya answered, seemingly unruffled by the younger woman’s anger.  

“Close the door, please,” she ordered next, and Raven felt her hackles rise even higher at the command in her voice.

“What are you doing here?” she repeated, ignoring the order, not wanting to give the woman the satisfaction of doing what she wanted. There was something undeniably threatening about having Anya Petrova in her room, among her personal things. It felt like an invasion, and the woman herself was intimidation personified. Never mind that she had spent the day stalking several Council members throughout the station herself. That was completely different. Her small room was supposed to be _her_ space, was supposed to be safe, and she resented the other woman walking in here like she owned it. Never mind that she was known to be one of the most powerful people on the Ark.

“I should think it would be fairly obvious, considering your activities today.”

“What activities?” Raven replied, defiantly. She knew what the woman was talking about, of course, but she was damned if she would incriminate herself willingly.

Anya didn’t answer immediately, just watched her with those cool, appraising eyes of hers, her face impassive.

“For someone who seemed so desperate for answers earlier, I’m surprised you haven’t figured out yet why I am here. I’m a bit disappointed… Sinclair claimed you were smart.”

Raven startled at the mention of the Chief Engineer.

_Sinclair? What does my boss have to do with this? Why would he be talking to her about me?_

“I am smart… A lot smarter than you, I’d bet,” Raven scoffed, not able to help herself even though it was clear the other woman was baiting her on purpose. Her mind was already working, however, the shock and anger giving way to curiosity. She’d been chasing Council members for answers all day, and now there was one right before her, apparently willing to talk?

_Does this mean she actually intends to answer my questions?_ Raven wondered, suspicious even as her hopes started to rise.

“Is this about the dropship, then?” she asked, guessing that this was the secret the Council was most desperate to keep and wanting to see what the woman’s reaction would be to the question.

“Very good, Raven… Maybe you are somewhat intelligent after all,” Anya said, a small, sardonic smile momentarily slanting her lips. “But if you want answers, then I’m afraid I still need you to shut that door.”

A tense silence hung between them for several long moments, and then Raven turned, closing the door behind her and sealing them alone together in the room.

“Fine. Door’s closed. Now talk,” Raven told her, crossing to her desk so she could lean against it, folding her arms and trying to look as intimidating and in control as her short, petite frame would allow. She had a feeling just then which was very similar to the first time she had stepped off the Ark for a spacewalk… A dropping sensation in the pit of her stomach, the fear and excitement of the unknown opening up before her. She was stepping into something equally vast and unpredictable here, she sensed. Opening a door that she might not be able to shut again. Who knew where these answers might lead her; what dangers were ahead? She didn’t dare back down, though, and it never even occurred to her to simply ask Anya to leave and forget all about her suspicions. This was about Finn, after all, and she would do whatever needed to be done to make sure he was alright.

“He also said you were blunt… Glad to see he wasn’t wrong on that count either. If you don’t mind, I will be equally blunt. It makes everything go _so_ much quicker, and we don’t have much time.”

Raven swallowed her nervousness and nodded, her apprehension growing by the moment. Anya wasted no time, and in words as stark and blunt as she had warned, she told her about the launch of the dropship and the one hundred juvenile prisoners onboard. Raven felt the blood drain from her face at the knowledge that Finn was, in fact, no longer even _on_ the Ark at all, but down on the Earth’s surface, and had been for two days now.

“That’s insane!” she replied, her voice hot with anger, “Why the hell would they do that?”

“You’re in Engineering… You tell me,” Anya said, her voice expectant.

She paused at this, a lingering doubt she had held for some time, but never vocalized, now coming to the forefront of her mind. Questions she had always wondered over about how Engineering was forced to operate now ran through her mind in a steady stream.

_Why is it that every mechanic is limited to working on only one or two stations at a time? Why can’t you pull up the life support specs for the entire Ark in one convenient place? Why break down and isolate systems data and repairs to such an extent, when it would obviously be more efficient to collate the data and streamline the repairs?... Why doesn’t the Council want anyone to be able to see the big picture?_

“Because,” Raven said after a moment, her voice nearly strangled with the sudden realization, “…the Ark is dying.”

“Yes, it is,” Anya confirmed, her eyes now fixed on Raven’s face.

“How long?”

“How long do we have left? A few months, perhaps, if we are lucky. Low oxygen and higher carbon dioxide levels are already starting to affect the weakest members of the population, of course. We will likely see deaths start happening in just a couple weeks. A month, maybe, before people begin to truly realize what’s going on.”

“A month?!” Raven echoed, shock and no little fear in her voice. This was it. This was the vast and dangerous unknown she had felt opening up before her earlier. There was no going back from this knowledge. No turning away from it and pretending it didn’t exist. The Ark, and therefore everyone she knew, was going to die unless something was done.

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because we _need_ you, and Sinclair trusts you,” Anya told her, her previously frosty tone softening somewhat.

“Need me for what? What can I do?” Raven asked, and there was another long silence as the other woman seemed to study her, judging her with her eyes.

“Here’s the thing, Raven,” she said finally, “I don’t trust people easily. Never have, probably never will… It’s just not in my nature. _But_ , if there is one thing that I do trust, it’s that people can almost always be counted on to do what is in their own best interest. So on that note, I have a question for you. Do you love him, this boyfriend of yours?”

Finn’s face filled her vision as she had last seen him, and memories of all the times he had saved her, cared for and loved her filled her mind. Did she love Finn? What a silly question. He was her only true family, her best friend, and her first love all in one.

“Finn is all I have. I would do anything for him,” she told her, and the sincerity of her words was obvious.

“Good, because what I need you to do is to help us save him. To help save all of them, actually, though I know he is the one you care about,” Anya said, and Raven felt a thrill of anticipation at her words. Finn had already saved her life many times over. It was only right that she do whatever was needed to save his now.

“What is it that needs to be done, exactly?”

“No,” Anya told her, shaking her head, “You don’t get to find that out until I have something in return.”

“What?” she demanded impatiently. This woman was infuriating. She walked in here and destroyed Raven’s world with her revelations, and now she was dangling Finn’s life in front of her like a bargaining chip. Raven clenched the necklace he had made her in her fist, the sharp points of the metal bird wings digging into her palm as she waited for Anya’s next words.

 “Your promise… Your absolute assurance that you will be able to keep this a complete secret… From _everyone._ You are obviously smart, Raven, and I know you want to save Finn, but I need to know that you can also be discreet. For this to work, you must be capable of doing what needs to be done, even if that might mean bending, or even breaking, the law. Can you do that? Can you make that promise?”

_This is serious_ , Raven realized, not missing the bit about breaking the law. To break the law on the Ark, any law, was essentially a death sentence if caught.

_This could cost me my life._

She didn’t even hesitate.

“Yes, I can… I can make that promise,” she told her, and her voice was surprisingly firm and confident. “I’ll do whatever it takes to save Finn… You can count on it.”

Anya smiled then, slowly and with satisfaction, and it was like watching the sun rise over a frozen lake.

“I’m sure I can... It’s in your best interest, after all.”

 


	8. Watch the Night

 

The low setting sun pierced the thick canopy of the forest, its dying warmth sparking off the metal of the dropship and causing the bright reds and oranges of the parachute tents to glow in the dimming light. Lexa walked alone through the trees, slowly making her way around the outside of the ramshackle camp, appreciating the signs of order that were beginning to emerge from the chaos of their landing. They had made great progress that day, and it had been fueled in no small part by the new sense of unity and common purpose she had forced upon them. Brush and small trees had been cleared in an ever widening circle, feeding the small fires that now burned throughout the camp. A half dozen medium sized tents had so far been constructed in a rough semi-circle, their perimeter forming a courtyard of sorts around the open space in front of the dropship’s ramp. Wells and several others had spent a handful of hours making some useable packs and tools out of materials salvaged from the dropship, and Monty had been hard at work for most of the day trying to regain communication with the Ark, though he had so far been unsuccessful.

It had been a busy day and the young Sky People were clearly exhausted from their efforts, the camp noticeably more quiet and subdued this evening than it had been the day before. After two days without a meal and all the hard physical labor – for which their young space-born bodies were greatly unaccustomed – the ex-prisoners of the Ark were all beginning to show signs of flagging energy. Tomorrow, after she and Aden had assured themselves tonight that the immediate surroundings, at least, were mostly safe, she could begin training the most promising of them on how to hunt and find edible food. If they were realistically going to feed this camp by hunting and gathering until the Ark came down, they had some serious work to do.

Lexa completed her circuit of the camp and returned to the large main fire at its center, the slightest of frowns narrowing her green eyes. Her careful inspection had revealed that everything was exactly as it should be…

Almost.

_No sign of Finn yet anywhere in camp and it’s nearly dark. Did something happen to him out there?_

She hadn’t seen him since they went to gather water that morning, and with the sun now slipping beneath the horizon, she was beginning to suspect that the reckless young man had indeed gotten himself into some kind of trouble.

_I never should have let him out of my sight today._

“Black?” a nearby voice said, and it took Lexa several seconds to realize that the person was addressing her, still unused to being called by that name in this strange new life she was living. She turned, finding Wells Jaha walking towards her in the growing dark.

“Wells,” she acknowledge, turning back to the fire when he joined her there.

“What tent are you and Aden staying in tonight?” he asked, and she cocked her head slightly at the question.

_Still determined to keep an eye on me, I see._

“We aren’t,” she said simply, her voice as cool and distant as the snow-capped mountains of the landscape beyond.

“What do you mean, you aren’t?” Wells insisted, and she felt her annoyance building at his persistence. As the Commander, Lexa was unaccustomed to being questioned on such trivial personal matters as where she would be sleeping.

“There are not enough tents for everyone tonight, Wells. Aden and I will choose a tent tomorrow,” she explained after a moment, not letting her frustration with him show, still conscious of the fact that she needed the young man to begin to trust her. Space was short in the tents, it was true, but Lexa was more concerned with not being observed leaving camp in the middle of the night. It was important that she and Aden be free to discover whatever they might discover without having to worry themselves with giving explanations, or fabricating believable lies about what they had found when they returned.

She was saved from having to speak further on the topic of her sleeping arrangements by the approach of four people, three boys and one girl, all of them among the oldest of the juvenile prisoners. It was to meet with them, not Wells, which had brought her to the central fire at sundown.

“Good, you’re all here,” she told them by way of greeting, looking them each over carefully, trying to judge their level of fatigue. She had chosen these four not only because they were older, but because they had showed themselves to be intelligent and reasonably level-headed that day. She knew very little about any of these people and had no way of knowing what crimes they had committed to become prisoners, so she was instead forced to rely on her own instincts to guide her in feeling out who could be trusted and who couldn’t. Many of the hundred were no doubt guilty of only petty crimes, she knew, crimes which would have earned them nothing more than a swift beating and some public humiliation among most of the clans. However, some had likely done much worse to get themselves imprisoned. Whatever their crimes, hopefully these four would prove themselves to be dependable tonight.

“Wells, meet Harper, Miller, Jones and Atom. I have assigned them to stand watch tonight.”

“Stand watch?” Wells asked, puzzlement on his face. “Watch for what?”

“We were lucky last night,” she explained. “I know we have yet to see anything, but it’s foolish to leave the camp completely unprotected during the night. At the very least, setting a watch lowers the risk of someone getting lost on their way back from the latrine, or of an untended campfire burning down a tent with sleeping people inside.”

Wells looked surprised at this, as though these dangers had never occurred to him. In truth, they probably hadn’t. Aden hadn’t been incorrect the day before when he likened the Sky People to children in the woods. Though intelligent and well versed in the dangers of space and station life, no doubt, they were woefully unprepared for a life on the ground and had no real experiences of its perils to draw on. Lexa wanted to avoid any more unnecessary, accidental deaths if she could, though she was certain they would lose people eventually.

“You four understand what you are doing tonight?” she asked, turning back to her new watchmen. They each nodded in turn, determination on their faces. One of them, Jones, looked a bit disinterested, and she eyed him sharply, staring him down until he too met her eyes and nodded.

“Good. If you get tired then you can take turns sleeping, but at least two of you are to be awake and patrolling the camp at all times… Stay away from the fires. They will ruin your night vision and you won’t be able to see more than five feet in front of your face. No one is to leave this camp tonight under any circumstances, is that understood?”

The boys all murmured their agreement, but the girl, Harper, half raised her hand and asked several thoughtful questions in that soft voice of hers. Lexa patiently answered her, appreciating that she was thinking critically about the task at hand. Her questions caused the boys to ask some of their own, and it was several minutes before she was able to walk away from the central fire, leaving them to their duties and Wells to find his rest in one of the tents. It was now fully dark, and she found Aden tending their own small fire in the same place behind the dropship they had slept the night before.

“Aden… Are you ready?” she asked him, and he jumped to his feet with boyish excitement at her words.

“Yes, _Heda_.”

“Good. Show me what you have.”

He displayed his work for her inspection, first returning to her the knife she had given him earlier that day. It was now bound open by means of tight copper and steel wiring wrapped around its handle, red fabric folded and tied around the wire to make a more comfortable and secure hand grip. The boy had also fashioned her a functional, if somewhat unattractive, knife sheath out of materials and seatbelt straps from the dropship. She immediately fitted the contraption to her right leg and belt, and slid the knife in place, moving experimentally to test that it was comfortable and would hold without slipping or letting the knife fall loose.

“This will work… Well done,” she told him, and he grinned with pleasure at her words.

“And the others?” she asked.

Aden gathered up and showed her the other weapons he had hastily fashioned that afternoon at her request, two long wooden spears, both tipped with sharpened metal at their points. The rough weapons were not exactly ideal… Lexa would have greatly preferred having at least one sword between them, but he had done well making these so quickly with the materials on hand. It was a relief to no longer be completely unarmed – not counting the pistol in her pack, of course, which she steadfastly refused to think about. She had killed without weapons before, of course, but it was decidedly more difficult. It wasn’t that she planned to need to kill someone this night, or even wanted to unless absolutely forced into it, but the world had a way of not caring very much about one’s hopes and peaceful intentions.

“Try to get some rest, Aden,” she told him once she finished her inspection of the spears, taking a seat herself on the ground by the fire, her back against the trunk of a tree. The exertions of the last two days and the lack of food were beginning to tire both of them as well, and she could feel her own body begging for sleep. “It’s going to be a long night and the moon should rise in just an hour or so… We will leave then.”

As they waited for the moon to illuminate the darkness around them, Lexa stared into the depths of the fire and allowed her mind to wander for the first time that day. As was often the case in those rare moments when she could let herself relax from her duties and responsibilities, her thoughts immediately turned to Clarke. Two whole days had passed since she had died in her arms. Three, since she had last felt those same arms hold her as they made love for the first time. So far no one in this strange version of the world seemed to know of anyone named Clarke Griffin…

Did this mean she simply didn’t exist here at all? Her heart ached with a renewed sense of loss at the prospect. Perhaps she did exist here, but for some reason had not been born on the Ark? Was she here on the ground already, then, living among the clans?

_And it’s not only Clarke… Bellamy and his sister Octavia are also missing from the hundred._

There had to be some logical reason that explained all three of them not being here among the dropship prisoners. Lexa resolved to begin questioning all of the young Sky People as carefully as she could to see if anyone was familiar with the missing three, or with anyone matching their descriptions for that matter.

When the light of the nearly full moon rose through the interwoven branches, Lexa gently shook Aden awake and slung her small pack over her shoulders. She had let the fire burn down to embers as they waited, and she quietly brushed dirt over the remains of the coals while Aden got to his feet and gathered up his spear. He nodded to her once when he was ready to go, his young face a pale oval in the moonlight.

“The sentries?” he asked in a soft whisper.

“Two asleep, the other two standing by the main fire,” she whispered back. Despite the orders she had given them, she knew the young people wouldn’t be able to resist the warmth of the fire while they stood watch. It was early in the spring yet and the nights here became quite chill. They meant well, but they were not warriors, and they lacked training and discipline. She had little doubt that she and Aden would be able to slip away and return undetected despite those she had assigned to stand watch.

With the faint glow of the moon to guide them, Lexa and Aden Black melted into the surrounding forest, their footfalls soft and careful, not a sound revealing their departure from the camp. They moved smoothly together through the trees, feeling completely at home for the first time since landing in the dropship. The tower in Polis might have been where they lived much of the time, but they were both _Trikru_ at heart, and a piece of them would always live in the deepest forests of their birthplace. Once they had put some distance between themselves and their camp, Lexa paused and crouched close to Aden, speaking softly.

“We’ll head to the east first. If I remember correctly, the village shouldn’t be too far. If we move quickly we should be able to make it there and back in just a few hours.”

“What are we going to do when we get there?” Aden asked.

“This is a scouting mission only, Aden… Let’s avoid making contact with anyone until we understand what the situation is. Remember, things might be very different in this reality. It could be dangerous to make any assumptions,” she told him, and he nodded in response, his expression serious and a bit nervous. She decided to try to reassure him a bit. Despite his natural abilities and training, he had yet to face actual combat and his confidence could use bolstering.

“I know you can handle yourself in a fight, but let’s try to avoid one if we can. We don’t want to start another war between _Skaikru_ and _Trikru_ if we can help it.”

She expected this to calm his nerves, but his expression remained anxious.

“What about the Mountain… and the Reapers?” he asked, and now she understood the source of his fear. It was one thing to face men and women in battle, and an entirely different thing to face the monstrous cannibals that the Mountain had made.

“Anything is possible, but we should be outside of their normal territory and we’ll be heading in the opposite direction. I doubt we will see any Reapers this far east… If we do, however, then stay by my side and do what I say. You are a warrior, Aden. If you stay alert and remember your training, you will do just fine.”

Aden took a deep breath and straightened slightly at her words, seeming to gather himself and his young courage for the task ahead. She did not fault him for his fear. All warriors, including herself, felt fear in the face of danger regardless of how many times they had already seen battle. Fear was a natural and necessary instinct. It was how one handled that fear and continued to fight on that determined one’s true strength.

Lexa felt a twinge of something like apprehension arise from somewhere deep within her. It came from the new and growing part of her that remembered herself as Aden’s sister, not his Commander. Lexa Black was used to protecting her brother from the world, and had gone to great lengths to keep even his existence a secret. To thrust him into such a dangerous situation went against everything she had known on the Ark. She had also not forgotten her earlier oath to keep the boy safe. Aden was her only link to her old life, the only one who knew who she truly was, and her heart ached at the thought of any serious harm coming to him.

She hastily pushed away these unwanted and unhelpful emotions. _Heda Leksa_ knew that there was no protecting Aden from the dangers of this world. He was a _Natblida_. His blood carried a greater destiny, and he could not afford weakness if he was to survive and take her place someday. Though he was young by the standards of the Sky People, Aden was of age to be a warrior’s second and would soon need to prove himself in battle. Harsh thought it may be, it was their way, and so Lexa ignored her feelings of concern and clasped his shoulder briefly, giving him her most confident expression.

“You protect my back and I’ll protect yours, understood?”

“Yes, _Heda_ ,” he agreed, the fierceness he normally showed in training now filling his eyes.

“Good… Let’s get moving, then. We’ve a lot of ground to cover.”

With that, Lexa released him and stepped forward to lead the way, Aden following several paces behind her, both moving as quickly as they could through the undergrowth without making undue noise. Though she had been forced to spend more and more time in the capitol playing politics since the forming of the coalition, Lexa found herself easily falling back into the remembered rhythms of scouting and tracking at night. The brutal wars she had needed to fight in order to form the coalition had lasted for almost four years, and she had spent much of that time in the field herself fighting on the front lines. She had come close to losing her life many times, of course, but something about this felt very different. Here now, it was just her and Aden. There were no _Natgonas_ protecting her, no army ready to follow her every command. Whatever dangers they encountered, she and Aden must be prepared to face them alone.

It took them nearly two hours to reach the village, and when they did they almost walked right into it before she even realized it was there. She froze immediately when the black, square shape of a small building loomed in front of them in the dark, her hand held up to warn Aden behind her.

It _was_ the village she had been expecting, and it was just where she thought it should be, but it was strange that they hadn’t seen or smelt any fires as they approached. The evening’s light breeze was blowing towards them, and they should have been able to smell the smoke of the village’s fires from quite a ways off.

 _Something is wrong here_ , she realized, concerned by the unusual quiet and stillness she could sense from the clustered buildings before them. It was hard to tell in the darkness, even aided as they were by the moon’s brightness overhead, but the huts she could see looked to be in poor shape and the vegetation seemed to grow thick and untamed among them. The lack of smells was also remarkable. All she could detect were the scents of earth, decay and growing things. No fires, food, or the stench of garbage and latrines that always accompanied the presence of many people living in close proximity.

Lexa shared a glance with Aden, and she saw that his puzzlement equaled her own. It appeared as though the place was abandoned. After several minutes of silent observation at its edge, they cautiously moved closer, slipping between the outlying structures and slowly making their way towards the small village’s center. They made a short tour of the empty village, both alert and searching for any signs of human life, tense with the odd emptiness all around them. Neither spoke as they returned to the same small forest path they had entered on, moving far enough into the trees that the silent figures of the empty buildings disappeared behind them. They stopped to talk only when she felt they had put a safe distance between themselves and the ghostly _Trikru_ village.

“I don’t understand… Where was everybody?” Aden asked softly, his eyes finding hers in the darkness.

Lexa didn’t say anything at first, silent as her mind worked over everything they had seen in the village, trying to fit explanations to observations. It had been the same village as in their reality, of that she was certain, although it had seemed much smaller than she remembered. The basic structure of the huts and the layout of the village itself were unmistakably _Trikru_ , however, and she had recognized at least one of the ruined buildings specifically from previous visits.

“No one has lived there in at least several years… There was charring on many of the huts, like they’d been burnt. Perhaps it was destroyed in a fire, and those that survived moved elsewhere.”

Aden frowned at this, his grip tightening on his spear.

“Or they were attacked, _Heda_ , and the attackers set the village on fire after killing everyone,” he said, and she had to concede that the suggestion was an astute one.

“That’s possible,” she agreed.

The implications of that theory were disturbing. This was fairly deep in _Trikru_ territory in their world. Fear of Mount Weather and its Reapers kept most of the bordering clans away from this region, even the neighboring _Azgeda_ , and it was unlike the Mountain Men to destroy a village in this way. Who then would be bold enough to carry out an attack like this so far within _Trikru_ lands?

Lexa felt her frustrated anger rising within her. Rather than the answers they had been seeking, finding the village had only succeeded in raising more questions. The threatening cloud of the great unknown still hung over them, menacing them with its uncertainty, and she’d about had enough of it already.

As she often did when faced with difficulty, Lexa let her mind relax and fall inwards, consciously seeking out the comfort and certainty that came with communing directly with the Commander’s spirit within her. It wasn’t until the resounding silence and the first dull, painful throbs of a severe headache began to pound within her skull that she remembered the spirit was no longer to be found. She withdrew her mind from its internal search and almost immediately the growing headache ceased, her blurred vision returning to normal. Aden was holding her by the arm and waist, she realized, half supporting her weight as she swayed on her feet.

“ _Heda_?! Are you alright?” he asked, clearly worried for her. Lexa straightened, and the last of the sudden weakness left her as though nothing had occurred. She touched her upper lip with her fingers, relieved when they didn’t come away bloody.

_Just like what happened the last time I intentionally reached out to the spirit… At least I didn’t bleed and pass out this time._

“Yes, I’m fine now.”

“You almost fell over!” he told her, and he was so anxious for her that the words came out a bit like a scolding. It was the kind of tone Aden Black would have used with his sister, but not one she was accustomed to hearing from the _Natblida_ boy herself. To her surprise, Lexa found that she didn’t mind, and instead of getting angry at his impertinence, she felt herself smiling slightly.

“Don’t worry, Aden. I was dizzy for a moment, but it’s gone now. It won’t happen again,” she reassured him, confident now that the headaches, bleeding, and loss of consciousness she had experienced were due to her trying to reach the Commander’s spirit. It was often a reflex for her and would be a difficult habit to break, but now that she was aware of it, she should be able to avoid doing so in the future and therefore avoid these new side effects.

“Come, we are wasting precious time.”

Lexa stepped free of his assistance, lifting her spear to point back the way they had come.

“We’re heading back to the dropship. There should still be time to do a rough search of the area around camp. Maybe we will get lucky and find Finn’s trail in the dark.”

She doubted they would be so fortunate. Tracking was difficult at nighttime during the best of conditions, and picking up a random trail when you had no idea where to start to look was almost an impossible task. Finn could be anywhere at this point. He might just be lost, but it was equally likely that he was already dead. Either way, they would need to go out and look for him with more people during the daytime. Her tired body ached with fatigue just thinking about it.

It took them less time to return to camp than it had to find the village, and it was only an hour later that they detected the first wisps of smoke from the _Skaikru_ campfires. Once they had oriented themselves once again on the camp, they first skirted north for some time before doubling back, then did the same to the west. They were about a half an hour west of camp and preparing to turn around and head back when Lexa heard something that both filled her with excitement and also a sort of wary dread.

A voice ahead of them in the dark, low and definitely male, speaking _Trigedasleng_ in guttural tones.

It was surprisingly close in the underbrush, and they both froze, their tiredness evaporating as adrenaline flooded their systems. The voice continued, speaking harsh, indecipherable words, and another voice answered it, this one also male.

_Two men in the forest at night without a fire?... Scouts for a larger group, perhaps?_

That seemed the most likely explanation, though she supposed they could be out hunting as well. Some animals were easier to hunt at night, it was true, but something in their harsh voices told her these men were not out hunting animals.

Lexa turned to Aden and found that he was crouched and tense beside her in the dark, his eyes wide as he searched the trees in front of them. The night was growing late and the moon was now low in the sky, causing the already dark shadows to grow deeper around them, and it was uncanny being able to hear but not see the presence of others so close nearby. It was nerve wracking for her, and must be even more so for the boy.

She motioned for him to stay put, then carefully crept forward, her spear raised and ready in her right hand. After several slow minutes during which she listened closely to the men ahead of her and tried to be as silent as possible as she approached, she finally peered around the trunk of a tree and saw their dark silhouettes standing only ten paces away. Her eyes by now were fully adapted to the night and the light of the moon that filtered through the branches above was still bright enough that Lexa was able to see the men for what they were, and her breath nearly froze in her lungs in sudden horror.

Two Reapers stood before her, the normally vivid red of the blood they wore on their mutilated faces appearing like ink stains in the darkness. The bone decorations on their tattered clothing glowed white in the moonlight, revealing them clearly for the tortured beasts they were. Kneeling at their feet was a hunched form, his arms lashed to the large tree limb that balanced on his shoulders, his handsome young face pale and bloodied from his capture.

_Finn… The Reapers have taken him._

Lexa wanted to curse out loud at the sight, but their nearness made the impulse unwise.

_What are they doing this far east of the Mountain?!... And only two of them?_

It wasn’t unheard of for Reapers to hunt in groups of two, but it was far more common for them to be in packs of five or six, especially when this far away from the safety of the Mountain and its tunnels. She couldn’t help but feel that their presence here, just like the burned and abandoned village, was an ominous sign of the conditions of this world.

Lexa didn’t wait to hear what the two monstrous men had to say to each other. It was clear they were collecting Finn and intended to take him back to their masters. Regardless of her uncertainty towards the young man, she couldn’t very well allow him to be taken to Mount Weather, and for several very compelling reasons. If they discovered his unusual origins and the highly effective healing properties of his blood, then the Mountain Men would stop at nothing to capture the rest of the hundred _Skaikru_ already on the ground. She may be personally conflicted about risking her and Aden’s lives to rescue someone whom she had previously condemned to death, but that didn’t change the fact that it was imperative that they both free him and return to the dropship without the Reapers following them back… and there was really only one way to guarantee that they wouldn’t follow.

_These Reapers need to die… and quickly._

Her decision swiftly made, Lexa slipped back and away from the monstrous men and their single prisoner, finding Aden waiting exactly where she had left him. She crouched next to him, putting her mouth close to his ear so that her words would not be overheard by their enemies.

“Two Reapers have captured Finn,” she told him, and she heard his breath suck in with surprise and alarm. She whispered her next commands to him slowly and clearly, making sure he understood exactly what she wanted him to do. He was nearly quivering with anticipation, but she sensed that it was as much excitement as it was fear. She remembered feeling similarly when faced with true combat for the first time, and she prayed he would not need to use the spear he held so firmly.

“Do you understand?” she asked him once she had finished her instructions, and he nodded grimly at her.

“What if there are more we haven’t seen?” he asked, whispering the question.

“I didn’t hear any, but if there _are_ more Reapers nearby, then we must be _very_ quick.”

They wasted no more time with questions or elaborate plans. This was always where Lexa had excelled, both as a fighter and a leader. She knew when swift action was required and never hesitated to fully commit to a decision once made. There was a time for being methodical, for slowing oneself down and carefully considering all the options and their potential consequences. However, there were also times when immediate, violent action was what was needed, and any hesitation could spell disaster.

This was a time for violence.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

He was probably going to die.

Finn Collins stared down at his knees where they met the black earth, his back and shoulders aching with the strain of holding the heavy branch his arms were strapped tightly to. Sweat trickled down his hunched spine, coated his forehead, and dripped into his open eyes. He shook his head, trying to clear the sweat from his vision and shake himself free of the panic and fear that was consuming him from within. On either side of him stood the large, brutish men who had captured him shortly before sundown, their strange faces still terrifying to look at despite being mostly hidden in the dark.

He had never seen men like these. They _were_ men, of that he was sure, no matter how improbable their existence on the ground might seem, but their faces were pierced and scarred, so deformed and hideous that they hardly looked human any more. The fact that these men even lived was absolutely incredible. In the daylight, when they had seemed to suddenly materialize before him as if from thin air, he had first thought that he must be hallucinating, so unbelievable and nightmarish was their appearance. Red blood was splashed across their skin, their clothes. Human finger bones and the dried, twisted cartilage of ears and noses formed gruesome necklaces around their necks. They had shouted at him like animals, their teeth bared in an inhuman snarl, and he had been so surprised and alarmed that he hadn’t even managed to make it two steps before he was tackled to the ground, their fists beating against his skull repeatedly until he nearly blacked out. By the time he had regained his scattered senses, they had already bound him to the tree limb he now carried, and then proceeded to push and prod him further and further away from camp, clearly intent on taking him somewhere.

_Unless I do something, I am going to die!_

Finn’s mind worked frantically for any possible escape, like an animal in a trap. This helplessness was worse than the prison of the Sky Box. Worse than falling from orbit in a dropship that was nearly a hundred years old, not sure if you were going to survive the landing or not. Worse than anything he had ever felt in his life. He didn’t know what their plans for him were, and as hard as he tried he had yet to make any sense of their strange language, but he was certain that his life meant nothing to them. Soon it could be _his_ fingers and ears decorating their necks.

Maybe he should just run for it and hope to lose them in the darkness of the trees? He couldn’t move very well, bound as he was, but surely it was at least worth a try? The thought of trying to run through the forest awkwardly while these bestial men gave chase made him shiver in renewed fear. Who was he kidding… There was no way he was outrunning anyone shackled as he currently was. Unless he could somehow work himself free from his bonds, he wasn’t escaping to anywhere.

Finn looked around him discreetly for ideas, hoping that the two men would remain distracted in their argument with each other and not notice him for a few more minutes. They had stopped some time earlier to rest, and just as it appeared they were going to pull him to his feet and force him to march on, the two men had begun arguing. It seemed to him as though the one wished for them to wait there, while the other insisted that they go on. Finn wished he could understand what they were really saying.

He glanced to his left towards the nearest large tree trunk, wondering if he could throw his weight against it and perhaps break the branch that way and free himself. Just as he did so, Finn saw something that made even less sense in that moment than the two savage men who had captured him.

 _Lexa?..._ He wondered, her unmistakable face peering back at him from around the other side of the tree just a few feet away.

 _Now I really_ must _be hallucinating!_

But he wasn’t, and in three swift and silent strides, she was suddenly there before him, her beautiful face fierce and determined in the moonlight. One of the men beside him made a surprised noise, turning just in time to see her arm snap back and then forward with incredible force and precision, the spear she held passing over Finn’s bowed head to pierce the larger man’s throat. Finn felt the spray of blood rain down across his bare arms and back, several warm drops splashing against his cheeks as he strained to look upwards. The wounded man gave a guttural, wet cry of pain, his wailing cut abruptly short as Lexa twisted and yanked backwards on her spear, further ripping the flesh of his throat and causing the brute to topple forwards. His falling body nearly crushed Finn to the ground, but in his shock he somehow managed to roll sideways and avoid being pinned, his legs scrambling and pushing against the earth as he struggled to put some distance between himself and the sudden, bloody violence that had broken out nearly on top of him.

His other captor had also turned, and seeing his companion struck down, gave a mighty shout in their strange language, calling out loudly and lifting his cruel looking axe. Finn was on his back several feet away now, and so it was that he was perfectly able to watch as Lexa turned to confront her second opponent, her slim body slipping sideways to avoid the wild swing of the man’s weapon, her movements so fluid and balanced that it almost appeared as though she was merely dancing with an unskilled partner. The blunt end of her spear flew upwards as she twisted to the side, striking the back of the man’s head with a loud crack, and he staggered forwards, the blow clearly having stunned him but not knocked him unconscious. He turned to chase after her again, and this time when he lifted his axe to swing at her, rather than move away as she had before, Lexa crouched and leapt towards him, thrusting out with her weapon with one arm, aiming low for the man’s vulnerable groin. Finn heard the spear make contact, the sharp point embedding deeply into the meaty part of his remaining captor’s inner left thigh. Again she quickly pulled back her weapon and dodged to the side as the man reacted to the wound, crying out and stumbling as dark blood began to pour down his leg. For several long seconds it seemed as though he was going to try to attack her again despite his injury, but then he crumpled, falling first to one knee, then completely to the ground as the flow of blood increased, a veritable fountain spurting from the major artery she had torn open.

Finn released the strangled breath he had been holding, a sound halfway between a gasp for air and a sob escaping his lips. He couldn’t believe what had just happened. He had never seen nor imagined such savagery, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that everything that had happened since his capture that night had not been real.

Lexa’s dark figure stepped towards him, her face unreadable in the night, and he couldn’t control the involuntary flinch that her movement caused.

“Aden,” she said, her voice cold and seemingly unaffected by the carnage she had just caused, right hand reaching down and pulling something metallic and sharp looking free from her thigh, “Cut him loose… Quickly!”

It was only then that Finn finally noticed the other slender figure in the shadows beside her, though he had been right there the entire time. Lexa’s brother stepped over to his sister and took the knife from her hand, then hurried to his prostrate form on the ground, kneeling beside him there and going to work cutting the thick ropes binding his wrists.

“You killed them!” Finn said, never taking his eyes from Lexa. He could hear the shock in his own voice, the disbelief.

“Yes,” she agreed, not looking at him, head turning left and right as she continued to scan the surrounding trees.

Finn tried to gather his wits, not sure why the deaths of his captors had affected him so strongly. Surely they were intent on killing him as well? Wasn’t it kill or be killed in this situation? He should probably be thanking her for what she did.

Somehow, though, Finn couldn’t bring himself to thank her for killing two people in cold blood, no matter the circumstances. The death and bloodshed twisted his stomach, a purely visceral reaction of distaste that he couldn’t control. Couldn’t there have been some other, more peaceful way instead of killing?

“Thank you for coming after me… Both of you. I thought I was a dead man,” he said, rubbing his wrists and climbing to his feet once Aden had finished freeing him.

“We might all be dead soon if we don’t hurry,” Lexa answered, and it was then that he heard them; eerie, wailing shouts in the distance, the animal screams already so familiar that he didn’t even need to ask what they were.

“There’s more of them?!” he moaned, his earlier fear returning.

“Yes, and it sounds like a lot of them. Let’s go, quick! Aden, you lead, north first, then east. Hurry, we might yet lose them!” she barked, the commands quick and urgent, and her brother leapt unhesitatingly into action as soon as she finished speaking, turning and sprinting into the underbrush. Lexa shoved Finn after him, hissing at him to hurry up and follow the boy.

The three of them raced through the forest, Finn desperately trying to keep up with the blond youth darting through the trees ahead of him. He wasn’t nearly as skilled moving through the woods as the Blacks clearly were, however, and he felt as though he crashed into every loud thicket and broke every branch he came across in his haste. The sounds of the chasing men grew louder and louder, and after only a few minutes into their flight, Lexa abruptly called for Aden to stop.

Finn stumbled to a halt, sweat pouring off his skin, glancing around them in confusion. The men were very close, and tired as he was the urge to start running again was overwhelming.

“Why are we stopping?” he demanded, panting for breath. “They’ll catch us!”

“It’s no use running, they’ll chase us until their hearts stop beating,” she told him, her own breaths a bit short from the exertion of their desperate run. Lexa gestured for her brother and Aden moved to stand by her side, both of them still clutching their spears. She had stopped them next to a low ridge with several toppled boulders at its base, a small washed out area that was clear of plants creating a bit of open space.

“We’ll fight them here, Aden… You stay on my left, keep the ridge at our backs. Understood?”

Finn gaped at them.

“You are insane! There is no way we can fight that many… Aden is just a kid!”

“Aden is a warrior. He will be fine. You, on the other hand… stay behind us and keep out of our way. If one tries to get around us, do your best to keep them away from our backs,” she replied. Her voice was like iron and she looked ready to fight a dozen men if need be, but he could detect the desperation there under the controlled surface, and he sensed that she was not as confident of their surviving this confrontation as she pretended to be.

He would have said something more in protest, but they were suddenly out of time for arguments. The shouts of the monstrous men chasing them abruptly rose to a crescendo. Finn spun and backed up to join the Black siblings just as their seven attackers burst out of the trees, their weapons raised before them and faces drawn into maddened, furious snarls.

 

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In a true fight to the death, there was rarely time for any real, tangible thoughts to form. Instead, action and reaction flowed without pause, the body moving as instinct and training demanded, and decisions were made so quickly that one could hardly be sure they had been consciously made at all.

When the first of their attackers fell upon them, Lexa had less than a second to decide her first move, and it almost felt as though her body reacted of its own accord. The Reaper hurtled towards them and raised his heavy sword to strike, the blow clearly not intended to land on her, but instead to shatter her roughly made spear and deprive her of her best weapon. As she had been taught, Lexa withdrew her spear from his swinging blade and twisted, using the momentum this created to spin the other end of her weapon up and under his extended guard, crushing his wrist and causing his sword to fly from his grasp. She pivoted again and stepped into him as he staggered to a halt and tried to backpedal away from her, his inhuman face now contorting in fear and surprise at the loss of his own weapon. His expression transformed into agony when the sharp metal tip of her spear found his soft stomach, piercing the thin cloth of his shirt and sinking several inches into his belly. He howled in pain, grabbing the wooden shaft of her spear with both his fists before she could pull it free and out of his reach.

Painful though a gut wound might be, and likely fatal in the long run, it was not nearly enough to kill him quickly, and Lexa felt a stab of panic when she realized her mistake. More Reapers were just behind him, and it would only take seconds for them to be overwhelmed if they didn’t kill each one quickly as they came. She tried to wrench her spear free, but the stronger man stubbornly held on, his fevered eyes bright in the dark, a horrible grimace on his lips. Rather than pulling again, she shifted forward and shoved her full weight into the spear still inside him, seeking to throw him off balance and to the ground. He did fall, but he also took her spear with him, and she chose to let it go, darting down and to the right, her hands seeking out and finding the handle of the sword he had dropped a moment before.

 As she did so, a second Reaper loomed up in the corner of her vision, his axe swinging for her exposed side, and she let herself fall to the earth and roll, just managing to dodge her new opponent’s strike. As she recovered from her roll and came up to her feet, she heard the man cry out, and it was then that she saw Aden, his lean body bent forward and arm extended in perfect form, the graceful slash of his spear catching the Reaper in his throat, slitting it open into a gaping grin, the red blood looking black in the night. The deranged cannibal gasped a bloody breath and fell to his knees, his hands reaching up to clutch at his destroyed throat. Lexa leapt forward and swung with her new sword, the heavy blade finishing the job of killing him and nearly taking the man’s head clear off his shoulders. His spine held, however, his head flopping grueseomly to the side, and his limp body fell to the earth beside the other man.

All of this happened in a matter of mere seconds, but it felt as though time had slowed and each breath was a lifetime. The first Reaper was still alive on the ground, his body curled around Lexa’s spear as he howled in pain and sought to pull it free, but there was no time to finish him. Lexa’s eyes met Aden’s for a fraction of a second as she moved back to his side, pride in him filling her briefly, lifting her spirits. It was short lived, however, as she hastily turned her attention back to their remaining enemies. Two Reapers were down, it was true, but five more had just emerged from the trees behind them, and these men had seen their companions die and were not rushing foolishly in to attack alone. They moved forward together like a ravenous wolf pack, their eyes gleaming hungrily in the dark. One man flinched as a stone struck his shoulder, but it didn’t slow their advance. Finn had not fled, she realized, but was in fact still behind the two of them, and was now picking up whatever rocks he could throw and hurling them desperately at the Reapers.

 _There are too many!_ A small, frightened part of her whispered, and Lexa’s own face contorted into a snarl of anger in response to the thought. She would not give up… She would _not_ die here, like this. Not yet! And she would not let Aden perish here either.

“Steady, Aden. We are _not_ destined to die here!” she growled, her fury at the desperate situation quickly overcoming her momentary fear and uncertainty. She had been cornered before against impossible odds, and had thought she was certain to die before as well. This was but another one of those times, and they _would_ prevail. She’d already cheated death once and been reborn, after all. She was the Commander, and the eternal flame of the spirit within her was not meant to be extinguished here in this place, like _this_. Lexa was _Heda_ , and she refused to allow these pathetic beasts to defeat her, to bring an early end to the destiny she was meant to fulfill… To steal from her forever the chance of ever seeing Clarke again.

Then there was no more room for thoughts. The Reapers reached them, and her world descended into chaos and blood.

 

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Finn watched in horror as the five men rushed in to attack them all at once, and he searched frantically for something more to use as a weapon even as Lexa and Aden both launched into a flurry of defensive thrusts and parries with their weapons. He found another large stone and hurled it, clipping one of the attackers on the side of the head, succeeding in stunning him momentarily. Lexa’s blade flashed out and slashed diagonally across the stunned man’s chest, wounding him, but she was unable to finish him off as she was forced to defend herself from the two others attacking her. Aden was scrambling backwards, looking incredibly small and vulnerable when compared to the huge men attacking him, his young body turning and twisting frantically to dodge their combined attacks.

_They are going to be killed!_

This was the only full, coherent thought that managed to surface as he watched the disaster unfolding before him, unable to take his eyes from the terrifying sight of their impending deaths. Lexa and Aden were both overwhelmed by the number and coordination of their attackers, clearly, and it was only their incredible speed and skill which was keeping them alive. The wounded man staggered around the others and came towards him, lifting his weapon, and Finn saw his own murder in the man’s eyes.

Just then, a large, dark figure appeared as if from nowhere, dropping down from the top of the low ridge and landing next to him. He didn’t even have time to be surprised, as the apparition promptly slid forward and deflected the attack meant for Finn, his sword slamming into the man’s chest under his ribs, killing him with one blow. As the corpse slid to the ground, Finn’s rescuer didn’t hesitate, but instead pulled a second sword free of its sheath on his back and jumped directly into the fray surrounding Lexa and Aden, his swords flashing cruelly in the darkness. Shouts and cries of pain filled the small clearing, and suddenly two more bodies were on the ground, their blood spilling hot from multiple wounds. The remaining two attackers bellowed in fear and confusion at this new threat, then turned and fled into the underbrush, leaving their defeated companions behind them.

 Almost as quickly as the fight had begun, it abruptly ended, the croak of insects, the dying moans of the man with Lexa’s spear in his belly, and their own panting, heaving breaths now the only sounds to be heard.

Finn dropped to his knees, his legs weak with relief and exhaustion. His whole body was shaking with adrenaline, and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn’t believe they had just survived that attack… That his heart was even beating at all was a goddamn miracle! He rubbed his face with his hands, his skin feeling oddly numb to the touch, and he wondered if maybe he wasn’t going into shock.

“Finn…” Lexa’s voice called out, and the caution in it made him look up, just now realizing that things were not yet over and the danger had not yet completely passed.

The man who had come to their aid was crouched aggressively off to one side, and both Lexa and her brother were facing him, their stances equally aggressive, weapons still raised and ready in their hands. The bodies of their foes littered the ground around them, and violence hung in the air like a promise, balancing on a knife’s point, ready to tip over the edge again with the slightest provocation.

“Hey, take it easy!… He saved my life, I think,” Finn told them, pulling himself to his feet. “In fact, he probably saved all of our lives, whoever he is.”

He had hoped to deflate the situation, but if anything his words had the opposite effect. In hearing them, the stranger grew even tenser, his grip tightening on his two swords and feet shifting as though preparing to either attack or flee. Finn froze mid step, not wanting to do anything to make the man feel threatened.

“Thanks for helping us,” he said, trying to meet the man’s eyes. His lower face was covered by a mask that hid many of his features, but his eyes were bright and visible above it. His head was shaven, a dark stripe of very short hair running down the center of his skull, and his athletic body appeared to be both heavily muscled and lethally poised. Although his clothing lacked the bones and grisly decorations of the other men, he still cut an intimidating figure in the night, and Finn could understand why the Black siblings were looking at him with such distrust. Clearly he was a skilled fighter and very dangerous, but he _had_ helped them. Maybe this man had some answers and could tell them more about who else had survived on the ground? Surely not all of Earth’s survivors were like the monsters that had taken him captive and tried to kill them?

“I’m Finn. What’s your name?” he tried, taking a careful step closer and keeping his hands open and unthreatening.

The man finally responded after a long moment, his words most certainly not English, and Finn thought it seemed to be the same language that the other men had used earlier. Both Lexa and Aden reacted to his words, perhaps startled by their strangeness.

“I don’t think any of them speak English,” he explained. “The other ones didn’t either.”

The Blacks still didn’t say anything, and he found Lexa’s continued silence to be unusual. He turned back to the unknown man, and flinched when he found that he was no longer there.

“What the… Where did he go?”

Finn took a few steps towards where the man had been standing just seconds before, though all he could see now was dark, empty forest. He stopped and turned when he felt someone grip his arm, seeing Lexa now beside him, her face drawn and pale, its expression difficult to make out in the darkness.

“We need to get back to camp, Finn. It isn’t safe out here.”

“But what about him? We can’t just leave… Who knows what he could tell us?” he asked, amazed now by the fact of the existence of living people on the ground. With all the blood and death of the past few minutes, he had almost forgotten how incredible it was that they had found people at all.

“Obviously he wasn’t interested in talking, Finn… Who knows, maybe he will be back, but we can’t stay here any longer. More of them could come at any moment, we need to get out of here now!”

Despite her words, they did not leave immediately, as she insisted that they each gather up anything of use they could carry from the bodies of the men. When his own arms were full, Finn rose to his feet and turned, looking to see if they were also ready. As he did so, he caught Lexa bending over the man she had speared. He walked closer, thinking that perhaps she was going to try to question him, but was instead shocked to see her pull free the knife strapped to her thigh. He watched in horror as, without hesitation, she slipped the knife into the side of the man’s throat and smoothly pulled it free. His painful groaning eased as his life’s blood poured from his neck, and Lexa reached up and placed a slim, delicate hand on his forehead in an oddly tender gesture.

“ _Yu gonplei ste odon_ ,” she said as the man breathed his last breath, but the words were whispered so softly that Finn wasn’t really sure he heard her say anything at all…

 

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_Author's Note:_

_Well, that turned out to be a brutal chapter. I think it should be pretty obvious who their mystery savior was... Poor Finn, though (never thought I would ever say that!). He needed a good dose of reality and to learn just how dangerous the world really is. And I feel better now that Aden has gotten his first taste of battle and come away (somewhat) unscathed._

_The gang is almost all accounted for now. Except for Indra, of course, don't think I've forgotten about her. Oh, and those other three pesky Sky People (four if you count Abby)... Now, where could they be? Hmmmm._

_Lots of answers coming next chapter, and it is also going to be a long one!_

_Hope everyone is still reading and enjoying this Sci-Fi extravaganza. Big shout out to everyone who has subscribed! We broke 100 on this site a few days ago, so now I guess I have to keep going. :)_

_\- FlyUpInSky_

 


	9. Sky Born

_Author’s Note:_

_Okay, Alice, hold on to your panties! We’re about to fall down into that rabbit hole…  ;)_

_A couple quick things. For reading clarity, if two speakers are both Grounders and there are no Sky People around, then it can be assumed they are talking in Grounder slang (also called Trigedasleng), unless I specifically state otherwise. If it’s a mixed group of Grounders/SkyPeople, italics inside quotations usually means that what you are reading is in fact a translation of Trigedasleng. I will try to make sure it is clear what language is being spoken when._

_Here’s to hoping this all makes sense to everyone! (But seriously, this is going to be a pretty dense chapter with lots of information to digest, so if you are at all confused, just comment and let me know and I will either try to clear it up for you right away in the comments section, or make sure I elaborate certain points more clearly in future chapters.)_

_As ever, thanks for reading, and thanks for the kudos, comments, and subscriptions!_

_~ FlyUpInSky_

 

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**\- Three Days Earlier -**

 

“You sent for me _, ai Haiplana?_ ” the man asked, his head bowed just low enough to show the proper amount of respect for his Queen. As was also proper, he held his bow and kept his gaze on the rough gray stones of the floor as he waited for her to acknowledge him, his teeth tightly clenched to control the simmering anger that always filled him whenever he was forced to be in her presence.

“I did… Please, join me,” she said after a brief moment, her tone giving nothing away. The man lifted his head, shaking the dark curls of his unruly hair out of his eyes. The Queen was seated at the head of the long, wooden table that occupied one side of her audience hall. There were currently only two chairs at the table, and she sat regally in hers, the remains of an extravagant meal spread out before her. She appeared both at ease and thoroughly in control, and he supposed she had every reason to be so here at the center of her growing empire, surrounded as she was by warriors willing to fight and die at her command. Her apparent relaxation was entirely deceptive, however, as her eyes were alert and studying him with all the cunning intensity of a fish eagle searching the icy waters below for hidden prey.

With one hand she indicated the empty chair beside her, gesturing for him to take it. He approached cautiously, struggling to gauge her mood and intentions. She had little use for him, despite his high station and singular bloodline, and had often told him so. It had been months since he was last called before her, in fact, and this unexpected summons now left him anxious and uncertain. The Queen never did anything without a reason… within a reason, within a reason… He both desperately wanted to know why he was here and dreaded it at the same time.

He pulled the heavy chair out from the table and carefully took his seat, knowing as he did so that he probably looked as stiff and uncomfortable as he felt. It angered him that she could likely see his discomfort. He often imagined that she reveled in his dislike of her, in the fear that she could cause in him, and in the near absolute control she exerted over his life. When he allowed himself to dwell on this, it never failed to make him want to lash out at her… or at anyone who happened to be convenient in that moment, for that matter. Both of them knew that he wouldn’t, however. Not if he wished to protect that which he held most dear. So rather than spend his hours plotting her demise and fall from power, he instead allowed himself to drown in the pleasures of her court… In the plentiful food and drink. In sparring with his fellow warriors, and bedding all of the many women who flocked to him for his good looks, his bloodline, and his position.

_This might be a hollow life I am living, and it might be a big disappointment to some, but at least this keeps me sane and my sister safe… That’s all that really matters._

“It has been quite some time since we last spoke… Tell me, how is that bastard sister of yours doing? Still well, I hope?” the Queen asked, her voice pleasant and pale eyes watching his face for his reaction.

He felt very little surprise that nearly the first words out of her mouth were a poorly veiled threat. This was exactly how she always reasserted her control over him, and she no doubt wanted to make it clear from the outset that she held all the power in this conversation.

“You did not call me here to talk about my sister,” he growled, refusing to discuss her with this loathsome woman.

This was nothing new. He was used to people threatening his sister. They’d been doing so ever since her illegitimate birth was first discovered and his mother soon after executed for her adultery in the city square. In fact, his own father had sworn on many occasions that he himself would kill the infant Octavia whenever he saw her next, thereby removing forever the stain on his honor and the proof of his wife’s betrayal. Bellamy remembered running back to the rooms he had shared with his mother and scooping up his small sister, cradling her in his arms as they hid in fear from his father, terrified that he might actually carry out his threats.

“No, _Belomi,_ your sister _Okteivia_ is not why I summoned you… I do not wish her ill, but I care little for what happens to your sister,” she conceded, and Queen Nia of the Ice Nation leaned back in her chair, a cold smile on her face. He wondered if it was meant to look friendly, but he had never truly seen any such warm expression as that on her face. Not even towards his father, back when he was still alive and King of _Azgeda,_ and she naught but his new wife. His father the king had died only several years after their marriage, killed during a surprise skirmish with a _Trikru_ warband, and Bellamy had not yet been of age at the time. Nia had easily seized control of _Azgeda_ the moment the king’s funeral pier was lit. So swift and brutal was her seizure of power that it had hardly mattered that she was not of _Skaibona_ descent, and that Bellamy was in fact the true heir.

“Spring has come to _Azgeda_ … The ice and snows have already melted and the mountain passes are now clear. As you are no doubt aware, this means that the raiding season will soon begin.”

He felt a prickling of interest at this topic despite himself. He had always wished to join the raids, but leaving his sister alone and unprotected in the Ice Nation capitol while he was off fighting _Trigedakru_ warriors in the south had never been a real option. Despite what she had just said, the Ice Queen had always been a real threat to Octavia’s life. After his father was killed in battle and she took power, a younger Bellamy had hoped that his little sister might be able to live a more normal life now, free of fear and the need to keep mostly hidden and out of sight, but he had quickly learned that this was only wishful thinking. Nia had needed leverage over the young prince, and his beloved sister had proven to be the most expedient method. The day he came of age, she had made it perfectly clear to him that he must stay in line and do exactly as she wished, or it would be his sister who bore the consequences.

“Why should I care about raids that I am not allowed to participate in?” Bellamy asked, some of his frustration leaking into his voice.

“Have I forbidden you from joining the warriors on their raids, _Hainofa Belomi?”_ she asked, her tone deceptively gentle, as though she were truly puzzled by what he had said. It was a farce, of course. She knew very well why he couldn’t leave with the warbands.

 _She calls me Prince, but it would be more accurate for her to call me her slave_ , he thought bitterly.

Prince he might still be – and one of the _Skaibona_ , a direct descendant of the sacred Sky Born – but it meant little as long as Queen Nia ruled in _Azgeda_. The age of peaceful _Skaibona_ rule in _Azgeda_ had come to an abrupt end when his father was killed.  Nia and her bloodthirsty policies of expansion by warfare were now the future, and there was little place for him or his kind in her new vision for the Ice Nation.

Bellamy did not answer her, but instead stayed silent. He only had one reason to be here, and that was to do whatever must be done to protect his sister. As angry as he was and as quick as his temper could be, until she told him what it was she wanted from him, his goal would be best served by keeping his mouth shut.

“Well, no matter,” she said after the brief silence, her eyes still rapt on his face. “As it so happens, you will soon get your wish to see the lands of _Trigeda_ after all… I have a special mission for you _, Belomi_ , and it is an urgent one. It will require that you leave tomorrow and take a small and loyal war party with you. Your mission will not be to make war, however, but instead to make peace.”

Bellamy eyed her with disbelief.

“Peace, _ai Haiplana?_ What use have _you_ for peace with _Trikru_?” he asked.

Surely this must be a ruse of some kind? Some deeper plot was at work here, some ulterior motive. The idea of Queen Nia wishing to seek peace with the Woods Clan was laughable… And that she apparently wished to send _him_ on this mission of peace made it even more so, considering that she knew very well of his dislike for their southern neighbors. Their warriors had killed his father when he was on the cusp of manhood, and that was not something one simply forgot when they became an adult. Blood must have blood, after all.

“War is often necessary, it is true, and I am more than willing to spill blood for the benefit of _Azgeda_ , but that doesn’t mean I am incapable of seeing when peace might be better,” she told him reasonably, then continued, “No, not better… Necessary. _Azgeda_ requires peace with _Trigeda_ if we are to prosper and grow. I have simply come to recognize that fact for what it is.”

“You would have us ignore the years of blood spilt, then? The countless lives they have taken from us… Lives which include my father, a King of _Azgeda?”_ he asked accusingly, his voice rising a bit as he spoke.

She raised an eyebrow at his heated words, leaning forwards in her chair to regard him critically.

“You surprise me, _Belomi,”_ she said, and her words and posture took on a decidedly dangerous aspect. He felt a chill pass through him and he stiffened, regretting his poorly thought out response. Goading the Ice Queen was not the best way to protect his sister. He wished he had not opened his foolish mouth.

“With the company you keep, I should have thought that you would be happy to help me bring peace between our two peoples,” Queen Nia said, her voice a threatening purr. “Do you not share your friend’s principals, then? Is your hatred for _Trikru_ so strong that you are incapable of taking on this important task? Or do you simply require additional… incentive?”

 _First my sister, now this!… Why does she have to bring_ her _into this as well?_

Bellamy felt his hatred rise up in him again. Spirits, how he loathed this woman. There was no point in dragging this out. They both knew that he would do what she ordered in the end whether he agreed with it or not.

“Why me?” he asked, steering their conversation back to the mission she had mentioned and away from any talk about possible “incentives”.

“You are a Prince of _Azgeda…_ They will respect you, and when you speak for peace they will know that you speak for me. I cannot go myself, for obvious reasons,” she explained.

He considered this for several seconds, still struggling to imagine why she now wanted peace with a people she had only ever sought war with before.

“If it’s a prince you require, then why not send your own son? Prince Roan is older, and he is your son by blood. Wouldn’t they trust his words on your behalf over mine?”

Nia reacted strangely to his question, a slight flinch of her eyes and twisting at the corner of her mouth. It was the first true emotion he had seen in her since he entered the room, and Bellamy wondered at it.

“Roan is… not available,” she said after a pause, and nothing about the statement suggested that she would appreciate any further questions on the subject. He wanted to ask why, to pursue the issue further, but her son had always been a sensitive issue with the Ice Queen. She had made him officially a prince when she first took power, but their relationship had always been contentious. Roan was older and Bellamy did not know him very well, but he had always got the sense that the man secretly disliked his mother and her manipulations just as much as he himself did. The other man certainly seemed to enjoy defying her at every turn, and his efforts to do so often became the court’s latest gossip.

_What has Roan done now?_

“Besides,” she continued, “Roan may be my son, but unlike you he is not one of the Sky Born… Many of the other clans still know and respect the sacred _Skaibona._ It will lend even more credence to your message of peace.”

_She needs me… Trikru will never trust that it is she who really wants peace. They know how bloodthirsty she is. The Ice Queen needs someone like me to give them a reason to listen._

This realization, that she needed _him specifically_ to make her plan work, gave him an idea. If she needed him, then perhaps he could use this to his advantage. She was no longer the only one with leverage in this conversation, and he wouldn’t hesitate to use that.

“If you so badly need my help, _ai Haiplana,_ then I will of course assist you as best I can… But I will need something in return,” he told her, praying that he had judged the situation correctly and not just overplayed his hand.

She smiled a cold, sly smile, leaning back in her chair. He waited to see what she would say, struggling not to sweat nervously under her penetrating gaze.

“Very well, _Belomi,_ I am not completely unreasonable. What do you require?”

He felt his lungs expand in relief, though he hadn’t even realized he had been holding his breath.

“First… my sister. She comes with me on this peace mission of yours.”

The Ice Queen nodded immediately, her expression vaguely annoyed, as though she had been expecting this from him and found his predictability boring.

 _“_ Of course, your sister. As I said earlier, I care very little what becomes of her. She is free do what she wishes. It is of no concern to me…” she said, and he again felt a wave of relief pass through him.

_That was the easy one… Now for the hard part._

“Is that all?” she asked, a note of impatience in her voice. Now that he had agreed to do her bidding, she was eager to give him the details and be rid of him, no doubt.

“No, there is something else I need. Before I agree to carry out your mission for peace, there is one other person who must be free to come with me.”

Understanding lit her features immediately, and her face hardened into a frown.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Then I will not go,” he insisted, and he was proud when his voice held firm and unyielding. He couldn’t back down, or she would sense his lack of resolve and this gamble would not succeed.

They glared at each other, the young Prince and the Queen of _Azgeda_ , neither braking eye contact. Bellamy would not allow himself to falter. He might never have an opportunity to try like this again, and he owed her this much, at least, after what he had done.

“Very well, I agree to both of your terms,” Nia finally conceded, but her voice was glacial. “Now, we haven’t much time, your party must be ready to leave at dawn… Let’s discuss the details of the peace negotiations with _Trikru_ that I wish you to propose…”

 

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Octavia looked up when the door to their rooms swung open and her brother entered, his darkly attractive face drawn and worried in the dim candlelight. She eyed him with concern as he crossed the room, throwing off his warm overcoat and slouching into his favorite chair in front of the small fireplace. That he hadn’t acknowledged her was annoying, and she stood and went over to join him, standing impatiently next to him as he continued to stare into the fire.

“Well?” she asked impatiently, and still he didn’t look at her. “You were gone a long time… What did the bitch want?”

She was speaking in their ancestral slang, and he looked up sharply at her use of the vulgarity.

“Language, ‘O,” he admonished, also speaking in the slang of their people. There were not many pure blooded _Skaibona_ families left these days, but there were still several small villages within _Azgeda_ that were predominately of Sky Born descent, and children there were raised bilingual in most _Skaibona_ families. Of course, all warriors of the clans eventually learned the enemy’s language, _Gonasleng,_ as well, and it was nearly identical to theirs. However, the enemy’s language had a slightly different cadence and rhythm, and a true _Skaibona_ could tell the difference almost immediately.

 “Oh, come _on_ , Bellamy! What, you suddenly expect me to show respect for authority figures now? I’d say it’s a bit late for that, don’t you?”

He frowned at her, and she wanted to punch his too serious face in frustration. This often happened to her, this urge to physically lash out in some way, to be violent. Sometimes when Bellamy left and she was forced to stay locked in this room alone, she would scream into the furs of her bed over and over for hours, and beat her fists uselessly against its tough mattress until her knuckles cracked and bled. On the rare occasions Bellamy felt it was safe enough for her to venture outside without him, she often felt an almost uncontrollable urge to just start running and never stop… Run away from this stupid fortress, the men and women living in it who would be more than happy to see her dead, and the endless consolations and apologies her brother gave her.

She hated this place _and_ its people. Hated that her mother had been executed here simply for the sin of having given birth to her. Hated that the King, and now the Queen since his death, both simply saw her as an expendable means to control her brother. More than anything, _Okteivia kom Skaibona kom Azgedakru_ wished she could leave this land of ice and shattered hopes and dreams far behind her forever, leave and never look back.

“Well, are you going to answer me, or just criticize my choice of words?”

Her brother sighed, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly with one hand.

“She wants me to go into _Trikru_ lands and negotiate a peace treaty with them on her behalf,” he explained, giving her a brief synopsis of their conversation.

“She wants _you_ to make a peace treaty with _Trikru_?” Octavia echoed with disbelief, knowing how her brother felt about the Woods Clan.

“Why would you help her do this? What are you getting out of it?” she asked.

“Well, _you_ , first off.”

“What do you mean, _me_ , exactly?”

“I got her to agree to let you come with me,” he told her, eyes twinkling, a sly grin forming on his lips.

“Wait… I get to come with you? Me? I get to leave _Azgeda_ with you?!” she replied, her voice rising with her excitement. “Bell, this is amazing!” she cried, pulling him into an exuberant, crushing hug. “I can’t believe you… This is just… Thank you! You are the best brother _ever_ , I swear! If I ever do anything again to make you angry…”

“Then I’ll know you’ve gone back to normal,” he grumbled into her shoulder, but she could hear that he was still smiling. Octavia pulled back from the hug, stepping away from him.

_I can’t believe this… Finally! We are finally getting away from here._

“When do we leave? Is it soon? There’s probably stuff to pack… Should I start to pack?” she asked, and he shook his head at her eagerness.

“We leave in the morning, so… Yes, we should both be getting ready. I have something I need to take care of before we can leave, though.”

“Really? What’s that?”

Bellamy sighed, pulling himself up out of his seat and looking back at her with a troubled expression.

“There is someone else who needs to come with us… And somehow, I don’t think she is going to be very happy to see me.”

 

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The dank smell and dark, wet silence of the fortress dungeons was heavy and oppressive. It pressed down upon the souls who were kept captive within it, an aura of suffocating helplessness and despair that was always present and waiting to choke the remaining spirit from them if they allowed themselves to fall victim to it. The unrelenting quiet was disturbed only by a steady, repetitive scraping sound, the scratch-scratch-scratch of a sharpened rock as it was drawn against the stones of the small cell.

The prisoner’s head lifted when she heard the heavy clomp of footsteps approaching down the hall, and she set down her rough implement and drew her shackled feet up under her, gathering herself for whatever might come. It was late. The evening meal, such as it was, had already come and gone, and it was unusual for guards to visit at such a late hour. Where her thoughts before had been pleasantly empty, her clever mind now came fully awake, working quickly to become a ready, focused weapon. Her father had always told her that her mind _was_ her greatest weapon, and she certainly hoped that was true. Her mind was all she had left, now.

It had been almost six months by her count. Surely the Queen was not going to delay much longer, and had finally decided on what to do with her? She felt a cold, steady dread building in her chest, shortening her breath. She could feel the sensations there in her body, but they also felt strangely muted and distant... Six months of imprisonment and left her with lots of time to contemplate her probable fate, and she found that she had become somewhat numb to the emotions of fear.

The noises in the hall grew louder and her door clattered and screeched with protest as it was abruptly unlocked and flung open, two figures visible in the torchlight beyond. A guard she recognized entered with the torch and she squinted at the sudden brightness, blinded by it. Her eyes had become accustom to the dark of her cell at night, barely lit as it usually was by what little moonlight managed to peak through the small slit window high above her.

“ _On your feet, prisoner_ ,” the guard growled to her, though he hardly looked in her direction. Instead, he turned and wedged the lit torch into the bracket meant for it next to the still open door, then stepped back into the hall, speaking to the person still outside. She complied with his command mostly because she preferred to face whatever was to come on her feet, but she did so slowly, never wanting to appear too eager to do as she was told. Small acts of defiance were all she really had left these days to amuse her.

“ _She’s all yours,_ _ai Hainofa,”_ he told the figure beyond respectfully, and his groveling tone made her want to sneer in disgust. He handed something over to the person, and she strained to see what it was as her eyes adjusted to the light.

“ _I would be careful, though,_ ” the guard added a second later, a hint of his normal cruelty coloring his voice, “ _She is a feisty one._ ”

With that he turned on his heel and left, his footsteps slowly disappearing down the hall. The other man stepped forward into the cell once he was truly gone, and she felt herself stiffen involuntarily when his darkly handsome features were illuminated before her by the torchlight. This was not who she had been expecting. The numbness she had been feeling quickly vanished, replaced by a simmering anger that slowly built within her, warming her chest and stomach for what felt like the first time in months. Her blue eyes narrowed, mouth tightening into a thin line of barely contained rage.

“Well, if it isn’t the Prince of _Azgeda_ ,” she said disdainfully in the language of the Sky Born, and Bellamy flinched slightly at her words, his eyes wide and sad as he took in her bedraggled appearance.

“Clarke…” he said, and she heard his throat catch slightly on her name.

“No,” she interrupted, shaking her head at him angrily, “You don’t get to speak to me, not after what you did… You shouldn’t even _be_ here, Bellamy. What are you doing here?”

“I’m saving you,” he told her, and she couldn’t help her involuntary gasp of surprise at this, or the hope that suddenly filled her at his words. She quickly squashed it, not daring to believe him.

_That’s exactly what he told me last time… I don’t need him to save me, not the way he chooses to do it._

“Hah, that’s funny,” she scoffed, “But why should I believe you?... You’re the _reason_ I’m in here!”

“Clarke, please… You know I never meant for…”

“You never meant for what, Bellamy?” she interrupted again, her shackles rattling as she took a fierce step towards him, voice rising as she let vent a bit of her anger, “You never meant for me to be imprisoned? You never meant for my father to die? Well, he _is_ dead, thanks to you! And nothing you say or do can _ever_ change that!”

There were frustrated tears building in her eyes, the grief over her father’s death still raw even after all these months.

“I was trying to _save_ you, Clarke!” he protested, and his expression was raw and anguished. She hated that he dared to come in here and act like the wounded one, as though his hurt was equal to hers. She didn’t want to feel for him, or to see his side. He had betrayed her, and her father was now dead as a consequence. Nothing he said or did would ever fix that.

“I meant to catch you before you made it to the border, to stop you from crossing the boundary with _Trikru_ … I didn’t know you had already made it across. I would never have brought the Queen’s men with me if I had. You have to know that, Clarke… I was trying to keep you from being banished, or worse, executed as a traitor for breaking the Queen’s command. What you were trying to do was too risky!”

“What I was _trying_ to do… taking that risk, it was _my_ decision to make, not yours!” she shouted, incredulous that he still didn’t seem to understand that. He may have been trying to protect her, yes, but he had taken that choice away from her. What was worse, she likely would have been able to save her father’s life if he hadn’t intercepted her.

Clarke’s father, a gentle and intelligent man who had only ever wanted peace between the clans, had been shot by a _Trikru_ arrow while travelling near the borderlands. He’d survived the initial wound and been rushed home to be treated by her mother, but the arrowhead had been poisoned, and it quickly became obvious that he was going to die no matter what they did. It was not the first time an _Azgeda_ had died from one of their fiendish poisons, and the symptoms were well known. The only antidote was to be found in _Trikru_ lands, and even Abby didn’t know specifically how it was made. Her father had lay dying on her mother’s healing table, and Clarke had been enraged that everyone was simply willing to just give up and let him slowly die.

To trade with or make peace with anyone from Trikru was forbidden by the Ice Queen. Only warbands and raiding parties were allowed to cross the border these days. For anyone else to do so was a death sentence, but Clarke had not cared. She had been determined to save her father, whatever the costs, so she had snuck away at sundown, taking her mother’s horse and riding foolishly hard, reaching the border with Trikru by dawn. Before the Kings death, relations between _Azgeda_ and _Trikru_ had been much friendlier. People had travelled between the two clans on occasion, and some trade had occurred between them. She knew of a healer among _Trikru_ whom her mother had often traded knowledge and supplies with when she was a girl, and so she had gone straight to Nyko’s village near the border, seeking him out in secret and begging him for the antidote needed to save her father. The large man had been wary at first, but he then claimed to remember her mother and her unique, bright blonde hair, and had readily given her what she needed. It had seemed as though she might actually succeed in her plan, and she quickly crossed back into _Azgeda_ lands with the medicine. It was then, however, that Bellamy and Queen Nia’s warriors had found her.

They stared at each other in silence, all that was between them and all that had happened in the past playing behind both of their eyes. They had been friends, once. Many discounted Prince Bellamy off hand as a generally useless young man, too focused on his own pleasures and vain pride to care much about his people. Most only saw his arrogance, and his apparent preference for doing whatever he wished and not caring very much about anything at all. But Clarke had always seen past that. As daughter to the Queen’s chief healer, she had once witnessed Bellamy bring his sister to her mother for healing after she had fallen and broken her wrist, and the loving protectiveness he had shown for the girl had left an impression on her. He did care about one thing, at least, and since that moment, a young Clarke had realized that there might be a truly good person hidden inside of him, and she had struck up a cautious friendship with the older boy.

He was driven almost solely by his need to protect his younger sister, and it was that redeeming quality which had led her to think he might be more than everyone assumed. It was therefore somewhat ironic that it was his misplaced urge to protect _her_ that had actually caused her imprisonment.

“I’m sorry, Clarke,” he said finally, and her heart twisted at the words. “I never meant for all of this to happen… I liked your father. He was a good man. I never wanted him to die, but I can’t change the past. I’m here now because I want to save your future! Queen Nia has agreed to allow your release, but you can’t stay here in the city. She is sending me on a mission to _Trigeda_ … She wants me to make peace with the Woods Clan. I convinced her to free you in return for my help, but you have to come with me and Octavia.”

“Queen Nia wants peace?” she repeated, her voice heavy with disbelief, “Bellamy, whatever she has told you, you can’t tell me you actually believe that?”

“I don’t know what to believe,” he admitted, “And I don’t care, because it doesn’t matter. All I know is, this is what I need to do to protect my sister… and you.”

“Of course it matters!” she protested, wanting to pace but not able to do so easily with her iron shackles, her mind working over this information at an alarming pace.

“Bellamy, come on! Think for a moment… The Queen hates you, and she hates _Trikru_. What possible gain could she achieve by sending you to them to ask for peace? More than likely this is a trap for you _and_ the Woods Clan, and you are walking right into it!”

The prince shook his head stubbornly, and she wanted to rage and scream at his obstinacy. This entire situation made zero sense, and Bellamy should be asking himself many questions about the Queen’s true motives, but instead he was doing what he always did. Focusing only on protecting his sister and ignoring the bigger picture at play. The Ice Queen could not be trusted, and that she was allowing her, a convicted traitor, to go free and join him on his mission only made Clarke even more suspicious.

_This could start a war, and he’s probably going to get himself killed… and his sister._

She tried to ignore the worry she felt at this thought, but it was difficult. Blame him for her father’s death she might, but Clarke had never been one for blind vengeance. Plus, she might not always see eye to eye with his sister Octavia, but she didn’t necessarily dislike the younger girl, despite her often reckless and immature behavior. Octavia had lived a difficult and stifling life here, she knew, one already filled with too much tragedy, and she didn’t deserve further suffering because of her brother’s foolishness.

“Fine. If I am truly free, then why must I go with you?” she asked, changing the subject. She had been a prisoner for almost six months. If she was free, then she simply wanted to go home, not go gallivanting off on a suicide mission with the man who had betrayed her.

“You can’t stay here, Clarke, and you know why… The only reason the Queen hasn’t had you executed yet is because you are still one of the Sky Born, and she needs your mother to remain loyal and continue serving as her chief healer.”

“Being _Skaibona_ doesn’t seem to mean all that much in _Azgeda_ these days,” Clarke muttered, but she couldn’t argue with his logic. “I suspect that she would execute all of us if she thought she could get away with it… You included.”

He didn’t reply to this, but she knew he probably agreed. The days of their people peacefully leading _Azgeda_ were long gone. His father’s untimely death had seen to that.

“So, what’s the plan, then? Am I supposed to come with you tied up in chains?”

“No, I have some servants waiting down the hall. A room has been prepared for you where you can bathe and change. I’ve already told Abby that you’re  being released… She will be waiting for you there, I suspect. I told her to pack your things for you. You are no longer a prisoner, Clarke, but you can either join us voluntarily as our healer, or I can tie you to a horse and drag you along. It’s your choice.”

She smiled at this, but there was no humor in it. It was not chains and shackles that truly made one a prisoner, after all. Though he didn’t look it, Bellamy himself was as much a prisoner as she was.

“Fine. Get me out of here, then. I haven’t had a bath in months, and I could go for a change of clothes.”

He actually laughed at that, a sparkle of good humor returning to his eyes. He seemed relieved that she was no longer fighting him on this.

“I’d noticed,” he said, waving a hand at her appearance. “You look like hell, Clarke,” he added, and though he tried to make the comment sound like a joke, she could hear the concern and worry in his voice. He was probably wondering just how bad her treatment had been here as the Queen’s prisoner.

_If only he knew…_

“Dirt washes off. Clothes can be changed. I’m fine,” she retorted, cutting short his concern. She ignored the gaping, roaring desolation that six months of imprisonment on the heels of her father’s death had created within her soul, shoving down the agony and rage that now permanently lived somewhere deep within her. He crossed over to her, his hands holding the ring of keys the guard had given him, and he carefully unfastened her bonds. Clarke rubbed her sore wrists when he was finished, feeling so light that she feared she might drift up from the ground and float away.

“Take me to my mother,” she ordered the prince. Not waiting for him to lead the way, the younger girl strode confidently out of her cell, back straight and posture commanding despite the dirt and rags that covered her thin form.

Bellamy waited for a moment before grabbing the torch and following her, his eyes making a slow circuit of the small stone room. Nearly every available inch of it was covered in intricate drawings… Etchings, he realized, painstakingly scraped into the hard stones using a sharpened rock as a stylist. They were simultaneously beautiful and heart wrenching… As though the vibrant spirit and soul of the formidable young woman who had been kept here had spilled out onto the walls for all to see. There were places, plants and animals, and even some people. One etching in particular drew his eye, though it was no one he recognized. A woman, her eyes fierce and hooded in a young and arresting face, stared out from the flat surface of the stone as though she were about to leap forth from it and into the room. Something about her was more vivid, more real than the other etchings, and he studied it for a moment before he heard Clarke’s voice calling for him impatiently.

With one last glance around the room, Bellamy stepped from the cell and hurried after her, and the receding torchlight soon dimmed the orange light from the walls, shading the mysterious woman’s features in darkness once more.

 

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Bellamy had not lied about the bath. Clarke let herself sink into the small metal tub, submerging her head completely for what must be the hundredth time. Servants had been waiting for her in the room, and after taking her clothes – though rags was perhaps a more accurate description – from her, they had proceeded to douse her in bucket after bucket of water, scrubbing her skin raw with rough soap and brushes. She had shivered and stood meekly and without complaint throughout their rough handling. She knew that the level of filth on her skin and in her hair was no simple matter to remove, and more than anything she ached fiercely to be completely clean. After the scrubbing, they had combed her tangled hair, cutting several inches from it with sharp scissors to remove the worst of the knotted ends. It had grown during her captivity, of course, and so she did not mourn the lost length in the least. Once the servants had been satisfied with their work, they had finally allowed her to slip into the heated bath that stood in one corner of the room, and now she luxuriated in the sensation of being clean, the warm scents of lavender floating up from the soap and oils they had added to the water.

 _If Bellamy thinks this royal treatment is going to make me forgive him sooner… He might just be right_ , she though, letting loose a contented sigh. In just a few hours, she knew she would need to depart on a long and dangerous journey into hostile lands, but for now, she would allow herself to enjoy the first real comfort she had felt in almost six months.

When the water at last began to cool, Clark pulled herself to her feet, stepping free of the tub. She wished she had a mirror to study herself in, but at the same time she was glad she didn’t. Looking down at her naked body now, she knew she bore the physical effects of having spent so many months in captivity. They had fed her, of course, and better than many of the other prisoners because she was both Sky Born and the daughter of the Queen’s chief healer, but the constant chains and lack of real physical activity had not been beneficial. She was far thinner than her normal weight, and her body and muscles were noticeably weaker. Clarke knew that she could probably count most of her ribs if she wanted to, and the realization dismayed her. With the condition she was in, this journey was shaping up to be even more difficult than she had previously contemplated.

 _Oh well… A few good meals and some fresh air, and I will be back to normal in no time_ , she told herself, not liking the depressed bent her thoughts were taking. She’d learned not to allow herself to dwell on her sadness or her circumstances. She may be physically weaker than she had been six months ago, but her mind was as strong, or stronger, than ever before.

_Remember, Clarke… Your true power is up here, in your mind, and right here, in your heart. Your mind is your greatest weapon, and your heart is your greatest strength. If you remember that, then no one will ever be able to take your power away from you…_

This memory of her father drifted up into her consciousness, making it almost seem as though he was standing in the room with her and speaking the words. She recalled how he had looked into her eyes as he told her this when she was a small child, first tapping between her eyes with two fingers, then pressing the palm of his left hand to her chest, directly over her heart. The warmth of his hand had seemed to fill her up with his love. Sometimes, when she stood still and fought hard to remember him, she felt like she could still feel his hand against her heart, pressing his love and warmth into her soul.

Clarke shook herself free of the memory, dashing away the two small tears that had built in her eyes with the back of her hand. She crossed the room to the clothes that had been laid out for her, pulling the sturdy garments on. They were her own clothes, she was relieved to see, and the familiar feel and smell of them was so comforting that she almost thought she might start crying again. She was a bit disgusted with herself for her sudden displays of emotion, though she was alone in the room and no one could see her. Her nerves were wrecked and shattered, her release from prison and conversation with Bellamy having happened so quickly and been so fraught with buried emotions that she hardly knew how she should be dealing with it.

_These are my clothes… My mother must have brought them._

The understanding that her mother was nearby gave her decidedly mixed feelings. She had only been allowed to see her once during her imprisonment, and the meeting had not gone well. Clarke’s bitterness and anger had subsided somewhat during the intervening months, but she had not completely forgotten the fact that not only had her mother chosen to stand by and watch her father die, but she had also been the one who told Bellamy of what she planned and sent him after her. She knew Abby had only wanted to protect her. That she hadn’t imagined that it would result in her being charged with treason and thrown in the Queen’s dungeon, but that didn’t change the fact that she shared some responsibility for her father’s death.

Fully clothed now, Clarke gathered herself and pushed open the room’s door, finding a servant waiting for her on the other side. The man led her down the passage, turning several times, and soon Clarke recognized both where they were and where they were headed. The rooms of the chief healer were nearby, and likely her mother was waiting for her there.

When she stood in front of the door mere moments later, Clarke took a slow, steadying breath, then knocked twice and pushed it open, not waiting for an answer. Abby turned and looked in her direction, healing supplies spread out before her on her table. Clarke’s favorite traveling pack was there as well, and it appeared mostly full. Her mother looked to have been in the process of finishing packing it for her.

“Clarke!” Abby breathed, her eyes filling with tears at the sight of her daughter standing before her. Clarke smiled slightly, tears filling her own eyes and her throat closing up with emotion, despite her earlier decision to remain stoic and calm.

“Mom…” she said, her voice thick with tears, and suddenly Abby was there and throwing her arms around her, the two woman hugging and crying into each other’s shoulders.

“Clarke… I’ve been so worried,” her mother told her, her own words quivering with combined happiness and relief. “I wanted to come see you… I tried, but the Queen, she wouldn’t allow it. I tried!”

“It’s okay, mom… I’m okay,” she reassured her, pulling back from her embrace to smile sadly at her. The bitterness and anger were still there within her, she knew, but for now Clarke was just happy to be in her arms, to feel her mother’s love surround her. She had been alone in the dark for a very long time, with only the guards and her drawings for company. A moment just like this was something she had dreamed about and longed for many times.

“You’re thinner,” her mother accused, trying to brush the tears away from her eyes so she could study her daughter. “Let me just look at you… I can’t believe you are finally here!”

“Neither can I,” Clarke admitted, her own tears drying now as she remembered just how much needed to be done before the dawn.

“Bellamy told you? About the peace mission?” she asked.

“Yes, he told me,” Abby replied, her face drawing into a look of concern. “But, Clarke, it doesn’t make any sense… If anything, Nia has always wanted _more_ conflict with _Trigedakru,_ not less. All these years, I always thought the only thing stopping her from escalating it to true war was the threat of the Mountain.”  

“I know, it doesn’t make sense. I tried to tell Bellamy this, but he didn’t want to listen. She must have some other plan, some ulterior motive… It’s just too good to be true that she would actually want peace. I don’t trust it. I’m afraid this whole mission is a trap of some kind.”

“That’s not all,” her mother told her, and the warning in her tone drew a sharp glance in response.

“What is it? What did she tell you?”

“Nothing, _she_ told me nothing… But I did learn something about the warband she’s formed to protect your peace delegation. The Queen called for fifty warriors to travel with the prince, and she specifically ordered that they all be of _Skaibona_ descent. She nearly emptied the _Skaibona_ villages of their warriors to make it happen, but almost every one of the men and women who are going with you are Sky Born.”

“What?!” Clarke exclaimed, sucking in a surprised breath. The Queen’s dislike and distrust of the Sky Born population within _Azgeda_ was well known by those who knew her best. As soon as the King died and she seized power, it quickly became apparent that Nia had always resented the special status and high standing that many Sky Born enjoyed in _Azgeda_ society.

“Could it be… Do you think she actually wants the mission to fail? For all of us to be killed?” she asked her mother, shocked by the possibility. It seemed incredible that anyone would wish such senseless death and destruction upon their own people, even someone like Queen Nia. But then, she had likely never really viewed the Sky Born as her people, but as an interloping minority. Was this her way of getting rid of Bellamy and the remaining fighters within the _Skaibona_ for good?

“I can’t let that happen, mom,” Clarke told her, determination filling her. The Sky Born were her people. They had their own history, their own language and traditions. They may be a declining minority within _Azgeda_ , but Clarke would not let them be slaughtered to satisfy Nia’s lust for power and dominance.

“Clarke, you must be careful,” Abby cautioned, worry for her daughter filling her eyes. “You always want to save everyone else… I know that’s who you are, and I love you for it, but promise me you will take care of yourself first? I can’t lose you again,” she begged.

“I know mom… I’ll try to be safe, but I can’t let her hurt our people anymore. I won’t let her kill us off in order to start the war she’s always wanted.”

Abby looked resigned at her words, and they both soon turned to finish packing. Dawn was soon approaching, and she needed to be ready to leave when the sun rose. Clarke went through everything her mother had assembled for her, asking a few questions about the medical supplies. They added several items that she wanted, then Clarke and Abby sat down together for a quick meal, knowing as they did so that this would be the last time they shared a meal for a long while. They laughed and talked, her mother watching her with concern as she ate, warning her to ease back into eating larger quantities so that she didn’t make herself sick. Clarke wished she had time to sleep some before leaving, but she didn’t want to waste any of the precious moments she had left with her mother. Finally, just before the sun was to rise, Clarke got to her feet and slung her pack over her shoulders.

“I love you mom,” she told her, hugging her one last time.

“I love you too… And Clarke? About what happened with your father. I hope you know… I hope you know that I loved him very much, and I wanted to save him, I truly did, but I just couldn’t risk your life. You understand that, right? I never intended for Bellamy to find you the way he did. If I had known what would happen, I swear I wouldn’t have…”

“Mom, it’s okay,” Clarke said, and to her surprise she found that it was. Life was too short for bitterness and anger. Her mother loved her, and she had also loved her husband. There was no way to go back in time and change what had happened, and Clarke found that after six months of silent rage, she no longer wished to blame her mother for her father’s death.

“I understand… I do. We both made difficult choices that day. We both did what we thought was right. Dad would understand that, I think.”

With that, Clarke pulled free of her mother’s arms with a sad smile on her face. Then, saying goodbye to both her mother and the Ice Queen’s stark fortress, she turned and walked out to greet the dawn.

 

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Sometime later, Clarke stood on the outskirts of the field where the warriors had gathered, watching as the sun pierced the horizon and the last of the preparations to leave were made. It was a formidable warband of over fifty warriors, and each man and women was intimidating in their pale leather and furs, their weapons carefully sharpened and bags packed for an extended journey. As this was not a raiding party, but a mission for peace, they had all foregone their white war paint and martial decorations, but it did little to detract from their apparent fierceness. Queen Nia had allowed them the use of a dozen horses, and half of the beasts were now packed with supplies, while the other six were kept unburdened with only light saddles on their backs, ready to carry scouts ahead of the group on their journey. Bellamy had procured three additional horses, one for each of them, and although it hurt her pride, Clarke was relieved that he hadn’t expected her to be able to march with the warriors on foot. I would be a little while before she was fully recovered from her time spent in the dungeons, and even riding all day was looking to be a daunting prospect.

This bothered Clarke more than it probably should. She hated being weak, powerless.

 _Head and heart, Clarke… Head and heart_ , she reminded herself.

“Octavia,” Clarke called in greeting, walking over with her horse to join the younger girl. Octavia was watching the activity with avid excitement, her eyes glowing in the dawn’s light.

“Well, look at you… You don’t look half bad for a wanted criminal. Are you sure you were really in prison this whole time?” Octavia asked, eyeing her up and down.

“Oh yes, I am sure. It’s amazing what a long bath and change of clothes can accomplish,” she replied dryly, relieved to see that some things, at least, had not changed much while she was locked up. Octavia was still as outspoken as ever. The girl’s hatred for the leaders of _Azgeda_ had given her an almost belligerent attitude towards authority, and she seemed to go out of her way to speak her mind at all times. Usually Clarke found this amusing, but sometimes it could be frustrating to deal with as well. Though she was very smart and determined, in her own way Octavia could be just as bullheaded as her older brother was. Their stubbornness was a family trait, she suspected.

“I was surprised when my brother said you were coming with us… Don’t tell me you’ve already forgiven him?”

Clarke looked at her with surprise at this. Octavia loved her brother, of that she was sure, but she had also always sensed that the girl often chaffed under the tight leash he tried to keep on her. She imagined it must be exhausting to be the focus of his protectiveness all of the time, which perhaps explained the way Octavia was apparently taking her side now.

“No, I haven’t,” she said simply, not wanting to go into it again. She was emotionally exhausted from everything that had happened to her that night, and the day ahead was just beginning.

“Good,” Octavia said slyly, giving her a respectful nod before turning her attention back to the gathering warriors, a small smile on her lips.

A few minutes later, when Bellamy called for the warriors to fall into a column on the narrow dirt road and begin their march out of the city, Clarke and Octavia mounted their horses, both a little clumsily. Clarke, because she was sore, stiff and weak from her time as a prisoner, and Octavia because she had only learned how to ride in the last year and had not been allowed much time to practice. Once they were both in their saddles, they turned their mounts to follow the marching warriors with Bellamy at their head. As they entered the forest and left the city behind them, neither one of the young women turned to look back, united in their strong desire to be far, far away from the Ice Queen’s fortress, though each for their own reasons.

They were perhaps a mile from the city when Clarke saw it, a glimpse of something that shone for only a moment through a break in the trees in front of her… A sharp flash of light in the distant sky beyond, a slim tongue of fire hurtling down from the heavens above. It fell to earth in a magnificent ark, as though it had been thrown by the careless hand of a god. She frowned, raising her arm to block out the rising sunlight, following the strange sight with her eyes until it disappeared behind the mountains and trees. Clarke glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed what she had seen. To her surprise, no one seemed to be looking, each person more concerned with putting one foot in front of the other on the rough-hewn path. Octavia, however, caught her searching glances and looked at her questioningly.

“What is it?” she asked, peering up in the direction Clarke was still looking.

“Nothing, I just thought I saw… Never mind. It was nothing.”

They continued on their journey, an _Azgeda_ warband whose purpose was not war, but peace, the lilt of conversation among the _Skaibona_ warriors shifting easily between two different languages, their light-hearted laughter occasionally floating up along the pleasant springtime breeze. Clarke followed quietly, sometimes listening to Octavia, sometimes simply closing her eyes to better enjoy the almost forgotten sensation of sunshine on her upturned face.

Whenever she opened her eyes, however, their blue orbs always rose to watch the sky beyond, though what it was she was searching for, Clarke couldn’t say.

 

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Nia, Queen of the Ice Nation, watched the prince and his warriors depart the city from the large window of her audience hall in the fortress, her cold gaze focused on the distant figures for several minutes as she thought over her plans.

“ _Ai Haiplana_ ,” a deep voice said respectfully from behind her, “You summoned me?”

Her mouth twisted down in distaste and annoyance at the interruption to her thoughts. She turned, facing the robed man who stood waiting for her to acknowledge him.

“Priest,” she said, and he lifted his shaven head to meet her eyes. She regarded him coldly, unnerved by her inability to read the strange man. He seemed to be unflappable and completely at ease no matter what she did, and her inability to make him fear her had long been a thorn in her side.

“Tell me again, Titus, why it is I must send a peace delegation to meet with _Trikru_? What possible advantage could this give me, or the goddess you serve?”

“I have told you what she wills, _ai Haiplana_. It is not my place to question why the goddess does anything.”

Nia sneered at his non-answer, frustrated as ever by his evasiveness. Not for the first time, she wondered why she had allowed herself to be allied to such an odd creature as he, as well as the red goddess of light he served.

“It may not be your place as far as the goddess is concerned, but it is most certainly your place to question her if you wish to continue to serve _me_. Who do you truly serve, Titus, your goddess or your queen?”

“To serve you is to serve _all_ of _Azgeda_ … Just the same, to serve the goddess is to serve all of mankind. By serving in the name of her light, I also serve _you_ , _ai Haiplana_.”

“Are you a priest or a poet?” she growled, growing weary of this conversation already. “Never mind, it does not matter… I have sent the delegation with her instructions, just as she wished. Now, explain to me how this will give me the Mountain.”

“The Mountain is not yours to have, but _hers_ ,” Titus insisted, his eyes on fire with his zealotry, “It is the lands of _Trigeda_ which are to be yours once the Mountain has fallen.”

“Very well. If she wishes Mount Weather to be hers, then why isn’t she here to take it? Why is it only _you_ who is allowed to speak with the goddess, Titus? Have I not done everything else she has ever asked? I subdued the great northern wastes... _I_ defeated _Sankru_ , just as she commanded. You told me that this would free her… That once she was free to spread across the land, she would give me untold power, _but she is still not here!_ ”

The Queen glared at him, her angry words ringing emphatically off the high ceilings above. There was a note of frustrated betrayal in her voice, and the priest sensed that he must tread carefully to regain her trust and support.

“The work of the goddess is never easy, _ai Haiplana_ , but I beg you not to lose faith. When you completed your pilgrimage all those years ago and came to the City of Light, did the goddess not greet you there? Do you not remember her wonder and power? She has come to save all of humanity, but the way must be made ready for her… Soon she will spread across all the land, it is true. The people will be saved from their suffering, and you _shall_ be rewarded for your work on her behalf. Once we have taken the Mountain, she will finally have what she needs, and the City of Light will rise. Have faith, _ai Haiplana_.”

She turned her head away from him sharply, eyes searching out the horizon once more. The older she became, the more distant her youth seemed. Her visit to the City of Light and her conversations with the red goddess that lived there now seemed almost like something from a dream. It had been many years, and it was difficult sometimes to hold on to her faith, but the priest was right.

She must trust in the goddess.

The Ice Queen beckoned for him to join her and Titus stepped out onto the balcony, his robes swirling around him as he stood by her side, looking out over the might of the Ice Nation.

“Tell me what must be done to give her the Mountain.”

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

_Author’s Note:_

_Okay, well, I don’t normally leave a note at the beginning and the end of a chapter, but I feel like I should offer up some clarifying points just in case, so we are all on the same page. This may be lazy writing on my part, but oh well._

_Yes, the Sky Born are descendants from the Ark. As you may or may not recall, a certain “Sydney Station” incident has been referred to several times in previous chapters, though only in passing. This was intentional and significant. I have always been fascinated by the idea that just one person’s decision in a pivotal moment in history can shape great things, such as when the U.S. President decided to drop nukes on Japan in the hopes of ending WWII. In this story, that pivotal decision is made by the Ark’s first Chancellor. Rather than blow Polaris from the sky, in this alternate reality he chose instead to convince them to join by making certain political concessions, i.e. the Special Amendment to the Ark’s Charter which granted Polaris more autonomy. This was one man’s decision, and this fic is all about exploring what that changed decision could have meant. Of course, I imagine that the first ten to twenty years on the Ark were quite contentious… A bunch of different stations of different nationalities all required to band together and adhere to the same harsh rules? In this timeline, without the motivating example of watching Polaris being destroyed, at or around the fifteen to twenty year mark, a large group of people from one station banded together and rebelled, stealing a dropship to take to the surface. They were probably mostly younger people, and there would have been first generation Ark born kids among them who had been genetically modified to handle increased radiation. Likely many of them died when they landed, but enough survived to form their own small villages, and eventually they merged with other tribes of grounders, helping to form what we now know of as the Ice Nation._

_If you are asking yourself, “Wow, did she really name the rebellious station Sydney so that she could make it the Australian station, and therefore give the Sky Born people on the ground a faint, but noticeable, Australian accent?”_

_Yes… Yes I did._

_I hope that clears some things up, lol._

_-FlyUpInSky_


	10. Wounds and Welds

**\- Present Day -**

 

“Finn, wait… We can’t go into camp like this.”

Finn slowed and then stopped, turning to look at Aden and Lexa with a questioning glance. He was utterly exhausted, his brain fuzzy from the combined effects of a harrowing night without sleep and no food for over two days. His muscles trembled in protest from the strain of his capture, from being chased through the forest by creatures that seemed more beasts than men, and from fighting for his very life. The three had made their way back towards the dropship in the dark with as much speed as they could manage. However, as tired as they all were, and now burdened with the weapons and items they had scavenged from the bodies of those they had defeated, it had taken them more than an hour to reach the mountain stream near the encampment. The sun was now just beginning to rise, and the warm pink hues it cast through the forest did more to raise his spirits than anything else could have.

On the Ark, the concepts of day and night had been largely meaningless. They had been nothing but a social construct, the familiar terms used as a way to measure time and order people’s lives, but now that had been forever changed for him. This second night on the ground had been terrifying, and Finn had never been so happy to see the sun before in his life. He was just now beginning to understand why all the horror stories and frightening tales he had ever read growing up had always taken place during the night.

“What do you mean? Why are we stopping?” he asked her, brows furrowed. After continuously pushing and prodding him to go faster, it didn’t make sense that Lexa now wanted to stop when they were finally almost there.

“The sun is rising, Finn. Some people will already be awake at camp… The last thing we need is to start a panic,” she explained, walking past him to cross over to the flowing stream, Aden following her close behind. He watched as they both dropped the items they were carrying and stepped down the bank so that they could reach the water. A shaft of sunlight pierced sideways through the trees, illuminating them there, and it was then that he suddenly understood what she had meant by “like this”, finally seeing them clearly for the first time that night.

The sight was startling, and he sucked in an involuntary breath. Both of the Black siblings were covered in blood… It was splashed on their faces and stained their bare hands a bright red. Aden’s blond hair was painted a dark black on one side of his head, and Finn frowned at the sight, not sure if the thick, congealing substance was blood or mud, or both. They each had several cuts and tears in their clothing, and he could see dark stains outlined on the fabric that had to be blood as well.

“You guys look terrible!” he exclaimed, walking over to join them at the stream.

As gruesome as the earlier killing had been to watch at the time, he realized now that it had in fact been greatly sterilized by the moonlit night. Everything had been cast in colorless tones of black, white and gray. He wondered just how terrible the bodies of the dead men must look lying in the small clearing where they had fought, and he was now oddly grateful that the fight hadn’t taken place during the daytime when he could see it better. His empty stomach rebelled at the thought, a small amount of bile climbing up the back of his throat. Finn suspected that even if he had managed to eat something the day before, he would have long since puked it into the bushes somewhere during the night’s slaughter.

As she often did, Lexa ignored his comment and said nothing. Instead, she stiffly lowered herself down to her knees in the grass beside the stream, her face betraying a small, painful wince as she did so. Aden did the same, and together they proceeded to wash their hands and faces clean of blood in the cold water. Once that was done, Lexa reached out and grabbed her brother’s chin lightly with the fingers of one hand, turning his head to the left so that she could better examine the mess that matted his hair.

“How does it feel?” she asked him, and Finn could clearly hear the concern in her voice.

_It’s a bit late for her to be worried about the kid’s safety, isn’t it?_

He remembered her ordering her younger brother to stand at her side and fight just a short time ago… What kind of person asked a kid his age to do something like that? The savages had been almost twice his size and were clearly experienced killers, and yet she hadn’t seemed to hesitate giving Aden a weapon and asking him to go into battle with her. Watching her tenderness with him now, Finn almost couldn’t believe it had really happened. He knew that their backs had been literally up against a wall, and it was kill or be killed, but surely only the most cold-blooded person could have done what she had? Her obvious worry over her brother now seemed out of character for the merciless killer he had just discovered her to be.

_My god… I mean, he can’t be more than twelve or thirteen years old! Fourteen at the most… What was she thinking bringing him with her to come after me?!_

“It doesn’t hurt too badly,” Aden told her softly, his earnest voice sounding very young as he continued to explain. “They were so strong, Lexa! I wasn’t able to block their attacks, so I just tried to keep moving and deflect all their strikes to the side like you taught me… The one with the axe was just too fast, though… I shouldn’t have let him get so close.”

_Is he worried because he thinks she will judge his injury to be a sign of failure? The crazy kid seems more upset about possibly disappointing her than he is over the injury itself!_

“You did very well, Aden. Better than many grown men could have... Better than I could have at your age, in fact. You fought like a true warrior tonight,” Lexa told him with fierce pride, and the boy grinned at her compliments, his expression equally fierce.

_… They’re both crazy._

Lexa shrugged off her guard jacket and unceremoniously ripped a small length of cloth from the bottom of her black t-shirt, then dunked it in the stream and used it to gently clean the dark smears out of his hair. It wasn’t until she had done so that Finn could see the wound beneath on her brother’s scalp, and Lexa carefully cleaned around it. The boy winced in pain a few times, but otherwise made no complaints and held mostly still throughout her ministrations.

“Is he alright?” Finn asked, moving to stand next to them so that he could better see. “What is that, blood?... Why is it such a dark color?

Lexa glanced up at him sharply for a second, then returned her gaze to her hands.

“My family has a… genetic disorder. It makes our blood look darker than normal,” she replied, seeming to hesitate a bit over her words. Finn frowned at this, sensing that there was something more she wasn’t saying. He’d never heard of such a thing, and he thought it was extremely strange, but his growing concern for Aden quickly distracted him from the oddity of their black blood.

The realization that the boy had been hurt coming to his rescue made his stomach twist again, but this time with guilt instead of disgust. Lexa had been hurt as well, he saw. There was a long, shallow cut on her left thigh that was still slowly seeping dark blood. It looked mostly superficial, however, and didn’t seem to be slowing her down. He thought hard for a moment, but he couldn’t remember seeing either of them getting their wounds in the chaos of the fight, though he knew it must have happened sometime during the battle. It was amazing none of them had been hurt worse. He suspected that he himself was covered in bruises from the beating he had taken during his capture.

 “Head wounds always bleed a lot,” Lexa reassured them both, not taking her eyes away from examining the injury, her slender fingers carefully combing through the boy’s blond hair.

“It’s not very wide or deep… It should heal just fine, I think, but you’ll probably have a headache today and it will likely bruise and swell some. Make sure you keep it clean,” she ordered, finally releasing her possessive hold on his head.

“I will be fine, _Heda_ ,” Aden swiftly agreed with a smile, obviously hoping to ease some of her worry. The effect was somewhat ruined, however, by the exhaustion and pain that were clear in his eyes.

“Hay-da?” Finn echoed questioningly, interested at the unusual nickname. Aden didn’t seem to talk much in general, but he thought he remembered hearing the boy use the term to refer to his sister once before.

Lexa glanced sideways at him again, the small answering smile she had been giving her brother dying instantly on her face at his words. Despite the decidedly conflicted feelings he now felt towards this intimidating and violent young woman, Finn couldn’t help but wish that the smile had stayed. Though it had not been directed at him, he had still noticed how the expression had briefly transformed her face, making her look much younger and more open than he had ever seen before. He also couldn’t help but reflect on the fact that it had made her look even more beautiful as well.

“You should clean yourself up, Finn… You don’t look so great either,” she said, walking away from both of them, effectively ignoring his intrusive inquiry. Finn suspected that she was uncomfortable with his witnessing the tenderness she had just displayed towards her brother, as well as his personal questions about their blood and the name Aden used for her. From the moment he had found her hidden in the walls on the dropship, he had felt that she was not an average person… There was a daunting strength there, an iron will and determination that he had immediately noticed and appreciated. After everything he had just witnessed this night, and after watching her brutally kill men right before his eyes, Finn knew that this was not a person who easily trusted others, or one who often allowed herself to be vulnerable in any way.

He did as she suggested, washing clean as much of the dirt and blood from his own skin as he could. At first, he was shocked by how much blood he found on himself, but then he remembered the first man Lexa had killed, pierced in the throat by a spear while almost on top of him. Finn took off what remained of his torn short and used it to wipe himself clean. The shirt was so ripped and stained that it was really more of a rag than anything else, and when he was done he didn’t even bother to put it back on. His chest and torso were covered in bruises that were swiftly turning a mottled purple. He wished he had his jacket to put on over himself, but in the end he was actually glad he had left it back at the dropship the day before, otherwise it would have faced the same harsh treatment as his shirt, no doubt.

“What are we going to tell everyone?” he asked Lexa once he had finished and rejoined the two of them. She looked thoughtful, and he knew she had been thinking about the same thing.

“I mean, obviously we need to tell people what happened… That we aren’t alone down here. I don’t know how those men have survived, but they can’t be the only ones. Who knows how many people are living here on the surface! This changes everything,” Finn said, thinking aloud. “I wonder where they were taking me… I wish I could have understood what they were saying. Maybe they were taking me to other survivors?”

“Wherever they were taking you, I doubt their intentions were friendly,” Lexa interjected, her tone even.

“Probably not,” he had to agree, remembering the terrifying certainty he had felt that they were going to kill him.  “But what about the one who helped us? He seemed different from them… He wasn’t just a mindless savage. We’d be dead if it wasn’t for him.”

“Perhaps… It’s true he helped us, and he was _very_ different from the men we killed. It’s hard to say from just one man, but it certainly appears as though there is more than one group of people down here besides us, and they don’t seem to mind killing each other… There’s no telling what we’ve landed in the middle of here.”

She appraised him with her calculating, fierce green eyes as she spoke, and Finn felt a chill run through him at her words. Could she be right? Were there entire groups of people living down here on the surface, not just a few random survivors? The prospect was both thrilling and alarming. Despite the dangers he had just faced, he couldn’t help the feelings of excitement and anticipation this possibility filled him with. Humanity was now _more_ than just the people of the Ark… It was also the people of the Ground. If some of these Grounders were friendly, then he could only imagine just how much help they could be to the Arkers already on the surface, as well as those soon to come down.

“We have to tell everybody,” he reiterated, aware of the fact that she had yet to answer his earlier question.

“Yes, we do, but we also need to be careful.”

“What do you mean, careful?”

“Careful not to make matters worse,” she explained, “You may have been attacked, Finn, but we don’t know why… We don’t even know who the enemy is, or how many of them are out there. People need to know, it’s true, but we also can’t have people panicking and seeing an enemy in every shadow. If the wrong person does something stupid out of fear, we could end up starting a war that we can’t possibly win.”

“War?” he repeated, shocked by the magnitude of that word and all that it implied. Here _he_ was still just trying to wrap his head around the idea that there were people living on the ground already, and _Lexa_ had already leapt forward by many strides and was apparently strategizing over how to avoid a possible war with them. He was amazed at how quickly her mind worked. Finn had thought she was smart from the get go, of course, but if anything maybe he had underestimated her intelligence.

“That’s kind of funny coming from you, you know… You just _killed_ those men, Lexa. You didn’t even hesitate! If anyone has started a war already, it’s you.”

“Would you prefer that we had left you to die?” she asked coldly, her spine stiffening at his judgmental tone. “Because that’s what would have happened eventually. Your recklessness got you into that situation on your own… I only did what was necessary to save you from your own poor choices.”

Her accusation struck home, and he felt a flash of guilt at this, but then he remembered the absolute horror he had felt watching her spear rip out the first man’s throat, and the speed and absolutely single-minded decisiveness with which she had taken so many lives. It was almost as though she had killed people before, but how could that be? Getting away with murder on the Ark was pretty much impossible, but Finn couldn’t shake the feeling that this person, Lexa Black, was someone unusually accustomed to bloodshed. Then there was also the fighting skill her younger brother had displayed. Taken altogether, it seemed the Blacks were a family that was disturbingly comfortable with extreme violence.

“There had to have been some other way to free me besides just killing them… There’s always a more peaceful way if you are just willing to look for it,” he insisted, though he himself couldn’t think of one right then. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you saved me and I’m glad to be alive, but like you just said, what if what we did tonight has started a war we can’t win? What if it would have been better for everyone to just let them take me?”

 “Are you so altruistic, then, that you are willing to sacrifice your own life? Is your commitment to peace really so great?” Lexa asked, genuine surprise and perhaps a note of disbelief in her voice, though her neutral expression did not change.

“I was raised to believe that it’s wrong to kill people, Lexa. I don’t know what _you_ were raised to believe in, but being on the ground doesn’t change that for me.”

“I was raised to believe that life is about survival… and that survival often requires sacrifice,” she told him, glancing at her brother as she did so. Aden hadn’t said a word as they argued, his young face watching hers with a serious expression. Her voice softened, eyes lingering on her brother.

“But, recently I’ve come to see it’s also about _more_ than just surviving… That it matters _how_ we survive, what we sacrifice, and with _who_ we choose spend what little time we have in this life.”

Finn held his breath, surprised by the sudden vulnerability, passion and openness he sensed in her, as though Lexa were very briefly letting her formidable walls down, allowing him to see just a glimpse of the real person inside. She turned back to him, her eyes finding his, a deep sadness in them that made her seem much older than her twenty-two years.

_Just who in the hell is this person?_

“I don’t want war, Finn, nor do I want there to be any more senseless killing. Whatever you may think of me, I don’t relish bloodshed. I did not enjoy killing those men tonight… Just like you, I want peace, but I also know that sometimes we need to be willing to fight to get it. Whatever we tell everyone at camp about what we have discovered, I just want to make sure that we don’t end up fighting the wrong people for the wrong reasons because of it.”

They studied each other, and Finn thought over everything she had said, deciding after a few moments to trust that she was speaking the truth about her peaceful intentions. It appeared that they had more in common than he had initially thought. At first he had judged her to be too rigid, too serious. He’d wanted to see her lighten up some, but she _had_ warned him not to be reckless and not to leave camp on his own, and they had almost died tonight because he hadn’t listened.

She’d come after him, though. Lexa and Aden Black had just saved his life. _How_ she had done it alarmed and scared him, but he was still moved by the fact that she had apparently been willing to risk so much to save his life. He doubted she would be trusting him anytime soon, however, and it was pretty clear she didn’t like him very much… Somehow knowing this only made him want to ruffle her feathers even more.

Finn put on his cockiest, most self-assured smile. He also made sure to put an extra edge of flirtation in his voice, though it was mostly just to prove that he still wasn’t intimated by her – terrifying killing machine though she might have turned out to be.

“Well, alright then, gorgeous… What’s the plan?”

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Ms. Petrova! I didn’t expect to see you down here this early in the morning.”

“There hasn’t been much time for any of us to rest these past five days, Sinclair… Now, please tell me that you and your little pet grease monkey have better news for me than the last time I was here.”

Raven heard the smooth voice of the Councilwoman in the room beyond and scowled up at the bottom of the Polaris escape pod in response to the annoying nickname, though she knew the infuriating woman only called her that to get a rise out of her. She was on her back working beneath the ancient machine, the comforting and familiar smells of oil and metal surrounding her. This was where she was most at home, besides when out on a spacewalk, and she took a moment to gather herself before sliding out from underneath the pod, breathing deeply as though she was preparing to go into battle. In the three days since Anya Petrova had ambushed her in her room and enlisted her help, Raven had yet to feel like she had come out completely on top in any conversation she had had with the formidable woman so far. The damn politician might not be a mechanical genius like she was, but she was extraordinarily smart in her own way. She possessed an unusually strong will and cunning, and her mind was as hard and sharp as a sword blade… and could cut just as deeply.

“If you don’t like bad news, then don’t ask bad questions,” Raven grumbled loudly, emerging from beneath the pod and climbing to her feet. Both of them turned to look at her when she spoke, Sinclair with an amused smile on his face, and Anya with one perfect eyebrow raised in an artfully unimpressed expression that immediately made Raven’s blood pressure rise in response.

“This pod is a piece of crap!” she declared hotly, slamming down the flashlight she had been using into the nearby toolkit and stomping over to them, angrily wiping her hands free of grease with a rag as she did so. “I just replaced all the corroded and damaged wiring in the avionics compartment and installed the new battery, but the navigation computers are still jacked, and I just found another bad exterior panel that’s going to need sheet metal repair or else the whole pod could lose pressure as soon as it hits space… The more I fix the more broken stuff I find!”

Anya glanced at Sinclair once she finished speaking, and the Chief Engineer shrugged, a resigned expression on his face.

“She’s right, unfortunately… We keep running into more issues. It will be days yet before this pod even has a chance of flying safely. Really, even if this were a sanctioned mission and I had a full team working on it around the clock, I still probably wouldn’t sign this thing off as space worthy for at least a month yet, maybe longer.”

“We don’t have a month, Sinclair, and we don’t have a team,” Anya replied, nearly growling with frustration. She stood tall and lean in a dark, navy blue suit jacket that was perfectly fitted to her slim form, a pencil thin skirt and low heels making her seem even taller than normal. As ever, the woman’s makeup was slight and tastefully done, and her hair pulled back into a sophisticated, professional bun that made her neck look long and graceful. She was clearly on her way to conduct Ark government business, and her impatience to get the pod ready and down to the surface was obvious. Raven found that she couldn’t fault her for it, however, as she felt her own, equal impatience to get on with helping Finn.

“This isn’t just about the kids on the surface anymore,” the politician continued, her voice urgent. “Symptoms from the failing life support on the Ark are starting to appear… The Council is already discussing conducting population reduction measures in just a matter of days if things don’t improve, and they’re still struggling to understand how and why we’ve lost over a dozen of the prisoners on the ground. Jaha will not be able to secure a majority vote in the Council in favor of beginning the exodus until they are all absolutely sure the ground is survivable. If we don’t get a radio down there and get some answers soon, a whole lot of people are going to die up here.”

“What do you mean, over a dozen of the prisoners have died?” Raven asked, a stab of worry going through her at Anya’s words. “When was this? What happened? Is Finn…?”

“Yes, your boyfriend is just fine, at least as far as those useless doctors can tell… I wouldn’t put much stock in them, however. There haven’t been any more deaths for three days, but the idiots still can’t seem to figure out what killed the ones who died on the second day after they landed.”

Anya explained the unusual circumstances of the deaths, as well as the medical team’s confusion over the data and what it could mean. Before she had even finished talking, however, Raven was already laughing, partly in humor at their inability to see the obvious, and partly in relief to find that Finn was in fact okay.

“They’re not dead, they’re just stupid,” she told them. “They took off their wrist bands.”

“What?” Sinclair asked, a puzzled look on his face. “Why would they do that?”

“Because the Chancellor told them not to, obviously!”

There was a long, stunned silence at her words, and then Anya began to laugh, a soft chuckle that slowly rose in volume. Raven looked at her in surprise. The politician’s eyes were twinkling with mirth, and the sight threw her off for a moment, so different was it from the woman’s normal stoic and hard-ass demeanor.

“What’s up with you? You take happy pills today or something?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just… It’s just I can’t believe that the fate of humanity currently rests on the poor decision making skills of a bunch of pissed off, delinquent teenagers! I can’t fathom what chain of decision making led Jaha to decide that _this_ was the best way to save the Ark.”

“Oh, and like your crazy plan to send a radio down to the planet in a hundred year old escape pod is any better?” Raven scoffed, pleased when her barb struck home and made Anya scowl.

“This ‘crazy plan’, such as it is, was only created because we quite literally have no other options… It’s hardly an equivalent situation. And besides,” she added, “our plan _isn’t_ crazy, because I have the best engineer and the best mechanic still alive in the solar system working on it.”

“Damn right, best mechanic in the solar system… I happen to specialize in crazy,” Raven told her smugly, slightly flattered by the compliment despite herself. For as much as Anya insulted her on a daily basis, she shouldn’t be so eager to receive praise from her… And yet, she couldn’t deny that she secretly wanted the older woman’s recognition and praise.

_Oh no… here come my mother issues again. Thanks a lot alcoholic, negligent, abusive mom that barely raised me! I sure do appreciate all that free baggage you left me!_

“I’ll talk to the medical team and bring up Raven’s hypothesis about the kids taking off the medical bracelets… Maybe that will give you the leverage you need to stall the Council on the population reduction for a little longer. If you can buy us a week or two, we might be able to get this pod fit for launch before they can go forward,” Sinclair said.

“It’s worth a try,” Anya agreed, “Though I sincerely doubt it will make a huge difference. Kane has been secretly working against the Chancellor, talking to all of the Council members on the side, and he’s got them riled up and scared half to death. Hell, if it weren’t for the fact that I _know_ we can get this radio down there and get some real answers soon, I would probably be voting in favor of an immediate population reduction myself.”

“Well, let’s stop wasting time and get back to work, then,” Raven said, a renewed sense of urgency filling her. She had been so focused on Finn these past few days, that she had almost started to forget that the entire fate of the Ark might rest on this as well.

“The sooner I get this piece of crap fixed, the sooner I get to see Finn… I think we can have this thing flying by next week if we don’t find any other major problems.”

“Yes, and the sooner we talk to Lexa, the better,” Sinclair added absentmindedly, sharing a glance with Anya, “It’s already been almost five days.”

“Lexa? Who is that?”

Raven didn’t miss the annoyed glare Anya cast in Sinclair’s direction, or the look of chagrin that fell across the man’s face. She looked back and forth between the two of them, intrigued by the nonverbal signals passing between them.

“She was my assistant. She’s on the surface as well,” Anya explained finally, “Or, at least, we think she is… It appears as though she stowed away on the ship.”

_Ah, so this isn’t just about saving the Ark after all… If Lexa was her assistant, she must have been someone she trusted. Anya has just as much of a personal stake in this mission as I do._

“Why would she stow away on the dropship? Did she find out it was going to the surface somehow?”

“I don’t know, but I intend to find out,” Anya growled, a dangerous glint in her eye. “That damn radio better work when it gets to the surface.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that… I could assemble that radio in my sleep.”

Both Anya and Sinclair frowned at this, turning to look at her in unison.

“How does that matter? You’re not going down with the pod, Raven,” Sinclair said. “Monty will be able to assemble the radio just fine on his own. You’re needed here on the Ark.”

“Like hell I’m not going!” Raven retorted, taking an angry step towards them.

_Seriously? They honestly think I would go through all this, put myself at risk like this for Finn, and then not go down to the surface to be with him? Just let them try to stop me!_

“Raven…” Anya started, but she didn’t let her finish whatever argument she was about to make.

“Look, I’m fixing your stupid escape pod, and I’ll put together your damn radio too, but if you think I’m going to just do whatever you want me to, and risk my life doing it, and then _not_ go down to the surface to join Finn, then you’re out of your damn mind! You don’t want me to go down in the pod? Fine. Then you can just fix it without me!... Oh, wait, I forgot, _you can’t!_ ”

Raven was shouting by the time she finished, her hands clenched into angry fists at her sides. Sinclair looked stunned by her outburst, but Anya had a small smile on her lips, an almost respectful look in her eyes. There was a long pause as the Ark’s Chief Engineer and the Polaris Station Representative regarded the young woman in silence, then Anya nodded once in acquiescence, just the slightest dip of her head.

“Very well, Raven, if that’s what is required for you to continue to help us… Your skills will be missed on the Ark, but perhaps it _is_ best that you be there to help the kids on the ground.”

The young mechanic felt a wash of relief run through her, swiftly carrying her anger away with it. She reached up with one hand to clutch the bird pendant hanging from her neck, the one that Finn had made for her. Anya paused, seeming to consider something, then continued.

“I can’t promise you that you will survive the trip, or even survive for long on the surface. I hope you know what you are volunteering for, Raven… And for your sake, I hope this boyfriend of yours is worth it.”

The Councilwoman left shortly after, and Raven and Sinclair got back to work, now even more determined than before to accomplish the nearly impossible.

_Just stay alive down there, Finn… I’ll be there soon._

 

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_Author’s Note:_

_Aden…  Why you making me so sad suddenly? I just want Lexa and Aden together forever. I’m soooo glad I wrote him into this fic as a main character. As the author, can I officially adopt him, or is that weird?_

_Raven and Anya… Anya and Raven… Anya and Kane? Why do I always write Anya as kind of intimidating, but at the same time low-key flirting with everyone she talks to? Is anyone picking up on this, or is it just in my head? Why does a sexually aggressive Anya with a so-far unknown preference seem kinda hot? Like, do we think she is into girls, or guys, or both? Hmmm…_

_I’ve got questions, damnit!_

_-FlyUpInSky_

 


	11. The Watchers

The pale moon rose over the dropship on the fifth night since it’s landing, shining half obscured by dark clouds before once again disappearing completely from view. It made an incongruous sight there in the forest; a tall metal monster which had fallen from the sky days before in a rage of noise and flame, its menacing form now towering over the rough camp which had sprung up around it. That the structure did not belong here in these lands was clear, and neither did the people which had apparently come down with it.

Lincoln watched the camp from the safety of a high limb on a neighboring tree, his large form further obscured in the darkness by a screen of naturally interwoven branches and leaves. He had seen the dropship land in the distance five days ago, and after several hours of searching had easily found where it had come to rest. With curiosity and trepidation he had watched the young people who had come down from the sky explore their surroundings, stumbling through the woods like small, lost children. He hadn’t dared get too close those first two days, as there were many of them and they seemed to wander in an aimless and disorganized fashion, and the risk of one of them accidentally stumbling upon him was too great. It wasn’t until he had saved three of the Sky People from being killed by Reapers a few nights before that his curiosity finally became too strong and succeeded in overcoming his natural caution. Since then, each night he carefully snuck close to the camp and its growing circular fortifications, taking up a high perch in a nearby tree so that he could observe them behind their walls in relative safety.

They had been busy. More and more the area around the dropship was beginning to look like a proper camp. Wooden walls were nearing completion, and they now formed a circular perimeter around the dropship and the brightly colored tents. Watch fires glowed throughout the camp, illuminating the area within the walls all through the night, and they had constructed a large metal cistern in which to hold clean water. The smell of cooking meat rose on the breeze, the meager results of the day’s hunting parties now roasting on the central fire. As many of them as there were, however, Lincoln knew that the food was not nearly enough. The young Sky People seemed to be learning surprisingly quickly how to find and gather food, but he didn’t doubt that most of them were still very hungry. Despite all the progress they had made, the camp and its people still balanced on the knife point of survival.

Lincoln wondered if they had any true idea of just how precariously their lives hung in the balance. He did sense a strained urgency in them, and could see the worry on the faces of the young men and women who now patrolled the camp at night. They clutched their makeshift weapons with tight, anxious fingers, and peered outwards into the forest beyond, searching for hidden threats. They never did think to look up, much to his amusement. Regardless, rather than the full-blown panic he had been expecting after their nearly deadly run-in with Reapers, the camp appeared instead to be in a state of heightened alertness. It was clear that they now knew they were sharing the woods with dangerous things, but their relative calm made him doubt that they had any real idea of just how dangerous their situation was.

Their preparedness was because of _her_ , of course… Their leader. He had felt oddly relieved to discover that the leader of the Sky People was a woman. It made them feel less alien and more relatable. His own people had always believed that women made better chiefs and were more suited to leadership, and the young woman clearly held her people’s respect. Lincoln couldn’t see her now – she had retired to one of the smaller tents shortly after sunset – but he could clearly picture her in his mind’s eye. What a fascinating mystery she was… She _and_ her young brother. They stood apart from their companions in noticeable ways. For starters, they moved as though they belonged on the ground, and what he had seen of their fighting skills when they clashed with the Reapers had impressed him greatly. Their techniques, and the way they had fought with both spear and sword, had been familiar. It was as though they had been trained as one of his own people, and he had been so confused by this in the heat of the moment that he had unthinkingly issued his warning to them in his own people’s language. What was more, the way the two siblings had reacted to his words, he could have sworn that they had both understood him…

But, if they _had_ understood him, then why were they all still here? Their walls might protect them some against Reapers, but they would do nothing to protect them if the Mountain Men themselves took an interest. Lincoln did not yet completely understand why, but he felt compelled to help these strange people, though he knew his fascination and empathy for them went against the fierce tribalism his own people believed in. Fear of outsiders and hatred for the enemy were a part of their culture, and these Sky People spoke the enemy’s language and were therefore a potential danger to the Woods Clan. If anyone else from _Trikru_ were there with him, he knew they would be demanding that they return and inform the Elders and the Chief of this new threat.

 _Are these people really a threat, though?_ Lincoln wondered. He had watched them for days now and had listened to many of their conversations. In his heart, the gentle warrior did not believe that these people from the sky were his enemies.

He knew what his duty was, and he knew many among his people might disagree with his failure to raise the alarm, but he also knew this was not something he could do. He would not cause the senseless deaths of these young people. This cruel world was always making demands, trying to force him to do terrible things and make terrible choices, and he had always felt a sense of helpless rage at that fact. This was part of the reason why he lived mostly apart from his people. This feeling he now had, however… This felt like something new.

This felt like hope.

 _Linkon kom Trikru_ held his place beside the _Skaikru_ camp all night, remaining hidden, watchful and silent. Overhead, the moon peaked through the clouds a second time. The young warrior lifted his face to the night’s sky, his eye’s searching out the light that shone above through the surrounding darkness. For a brief moment his dark features were illuminated with pure brightness, then the moon disappeared again, and the harsh wilderness of the night swallowed him up once more.

 

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_“I’m sorry, Leksa…”_

_BANG!_

 The Commander bolted awake, her breath heaving in a strangled gasp, hand reaching automatically for the knife still strapped to her thigh. She blinked at her dark surroundings, confused and only half awake. This wasn’t her bedroom in Polis… Nor was it the large tent she generally lived in while out on campaign or when visiting other clans. Her eyes darted left and right, struggling to determine where she was and how she had gotten here, her mind still partially overtaken by the nightmare that had awoken her.

“What is it, _Heda_? Are you alright?”

It was Aden’s voice, and her eyes found him in the dark. He was lying down only a few feet away on a makeshift cot of his own, sitting up and rubbing his tired eyes. With a rush, she remembered that she was not in Polis anymore, or even among the clans, but was in fact in the small tent she and Aden now shared in the dropship camp. When the sun went down earlier, they had both turned in early to try to get some much needed rest. That couldn’t have been more than an hour or two ago, however, and she immediately felt bad for waking the tired boy.

“It’s nothing, just a bad dream,” she reassured him, sitting upright and swinging her legs to rest on the ground. She rubbed her throbbing temple with one hand, frowning as the headache continued to creep up her neck and through her skull. The headaches were a common thing these past few days, and seemed to be growing slightly worse each time, despite the fact that she no longer reached intentionally for the Commander’s spirit. It was just one more thing to add to the growing list of worries that she now carried.

“You were talking in your sleep… It sounded like a bad one,” Aden told her, concerned. “What was it about?”

Lexa turned her face away from him and stared at the bright fabric of the tent, not wanting him to see any of the anguish she was feeling. He was right, of course. It had been a bad one, and her heart was still racing from the dream which had woken her. She was used to bad dreams, it was true, but they were normally messages and visions from the spirit of the Commander. This nightmare, however, had been entirely of her own making.

“I was dreaming of my death… The one that brought me here,” she explained finally, needing to speak aloud the thoughts which plagued her. This did partially concern Aden as well, and he deserved to know some of the conclusions she was beginning to draw about the events which led to her assassination at the hands of her most trusted advisor.

“Titus said something to me to that night… He told me not to worry; that he would protect my legacy. They were the last words he spoke to me, and I didn’t understand why at the time. He’d just shot me in the back, and I knew I was dying. Why would a traitor like him, my murderer, care about my legacy? He had just destroyed my hopes for peace, betrayed his Commander and broken his sacred oaths, and yet he dared apologize and promise to protect my people? It didn’t make any sense to me then.”

“What about now?” Aden asked, curiosity and sadness in his voice.

Lexa looked back at him, meeting his eyes.

“Now… I think he meant it, that he really did intend to do as he said. I’ve been wondering why he asked you to wait for him that night in the Sacred Chamber… Why he didn’t kill me outright, but instead wounded me in a way that almost guaranteed I would die slowly. I think it was all carefully planned.  I think he’d decided that he might need to kill me hours, maybe even days before, and he knew he _needed_ me to die slowly… He needed time to frame the _Skaikru_ prisoner _before_ returning and performing the death ritual.”

“But… Why? Why would he do all that?” Aden asked, “I always thought Titus loved you… That he cared for all of us! He was a loyal _Fleimkepa_ for three Commanders before you... Was that all just lies?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Lexa replied, her own voice dipping into sadness. Any time she thought of her teacher she was filled with such conflicting emotions. Sadness, rage, anger, hopelessness, betrayal… It was difficult to determine which was strongest. Her initial anger hadn’t allowed her to examine her memories of her death very carefully – it had been too raw and painful – but now that some time had passed, she found that she was able to think about what had happened in a more analytical light. Titus was clearly not the man she had thought him to be, but not everything about him could have been lies, and despite what he had done, she still believed a part of him had cared for her very much. Therefore, he must have had compelling reasons for doing what he did. Reasons that felt completely rational and necessary to him.

“I think Titus was doing what he thought was best for our people. I think he believed my commitment to peace was going to cost us everything, and might even allow the Entity to enslave humanity once and for all. When he realized he couldn’t change my mind about _Skaikru_ , he must have decided the only solution was for there to be a new Commander, but he knew he couldn’t trust that _Azgeda_ woman to respect the teachings of the Blood… He made sure you were _there_ , already waiting in the Sacred Chamber when he killed me. I suspect he intended all along to begin the Conclave in secret immediately after my death, and to do everything he could to ensure that you were the next one chosen. He didn’t want to give Ontari time to arrive and run the risk of the Spirit choosing her.”

“So, he wanted _me_ to be Commander? Why me?” Aden asked, “I also vowed I would protect _Skaikru_ … I made an oath to _Wanheda_ just the same as you.” 

 _Because, despite your skills and potential, you are still just a boy, and he believed he could control you better than he could me,_ Lexa thought, though she didn’t say it. To tell Aden this would be as good as blaming him out loud for her death, though she certainly didn’t feel that way. It couldn’t be denied, however, that if it weren’t for the fact that Titus felt he had a strong, viable replacement in Aden, he might not have had the courage to go through with killing her as he did. When he felt she was no longer faithful to his teachings and wasn’t fulfilling her duties, removing her and ensuring that Aden would be the next Commander had been the logical next step. He probably hadn’t even viewed it as a betrayal, but instead as something that must be done in higher service to the Commander’s eternal flame.

“I believe you would have tried, Aden, but Titus knows how to manipulate. He would have told you that it was someone from _Skaikru_ who killed me, and then used your emotions over my death to persuade you to declare war.”

“I wouldn’t have done it!” the boy insisted, and she had to smile at his stubbornness, “I would have figured out that he was lying somehow… And besides, with the Commander’s spirit inside me, wouldn’t I have had your memories as well, and known what really happened?”

“The Spirit is not quite so straightforward as all that, I’m afraid,” Lexa informed him. She stood up, suddenly feeling restless and needing to pace. Discussing the Spirit only made her more aware of its disturbing, continued silence.

“Often the Spirit is like someone whispering quietly in your ear, and other times it is merely a sense of absolute certainty…. An urgency, I guess you could say, to do something that is very important. It works a bit different in the spirit world, of course, but that is a lesson for another time, I think.”

The boy looked thoughtful at her words, frowning down at his hands in the dark. The _Natblidas_ were taught much that was intended to prepare them for the Conclave, but a great deal more was kept secret from them. Only the Commander and the _Fleimkepa_ truly knew all of the secrets of the Spirit. She no longer had a _Fleimkepa_ in this life, however, and her faint, but growing memories of the Ark told her that she and Aden were the last of the Nightbloods. There was no reason to keep secrets from him anymore. If anything happened to her, Aden would be the only one capable of carrying on. She would need to make a point of teaching him more about the Spirit whenever she could. If her death had taught her anything, it was that life was a fleeting, fragile thing. Like a single candle flame, the slightest unexpected breeze might blow it out at any moment.

“Go back to sleep, Aden… We’ll talk more later,” she told him, pulling on her black jacket and slipping her pack over her shoulders. Since discovering what it contained, she never left the pack anywhere untended. She had even fitted it with a sheath for the sword she had taken from one of the Reapers, so it now served a dual function of carrying her sword on her back. Even here inside the camp walls, Lexa refused to go anywhere unarmed.

“Aren’t you going back to sleep?” he called after her, but the question went unanswered, the tent flap swinging shut behind her as she stepped outside and briskly strode into the cold night, leaving him behind.

_He is worried about me._

The thought was tinged with guilt. Aden cared about her, and though a part of her wanted to let down her guard, to let herself love him fully and remember him as her younger brother, a larger, more prominent part of her was scared to let herself be that vulnerable again. She had lost too much… First Costia, then Anya, Gustus, and in a way, Titus, as well as countless others who had been lost in battle over the years. Now even Clarke had been torn away from her, separated by an entirely different world and time. Clarke’s loss was the worst of all of them because it was Clarke whom she had loved the most. If she let herself love Aden now without reserve, what would _his_ death do to her?... What would hers do to him? In this harsh, unforgiving world, one or the other coming to pass was almost a guarantee.

_You may have taught me that love isn’t weakness, Clarke, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t also unbearably hard…_

Lexa approached the central cook fire where several people still stood clustered around its warmth. Wells was there, and she automatically crossed to stand next to him. Of all the young Sky People who had come down in the dropship, she still liked him the most, though he was also the one she most frequently clashed with. They had worked closely together over the past few days, and his help in organizing the efforts of the camp had been critical. It was largely thanks to him that things were running so smoothly and the wall was nearly complete.

Lexa was good at simultaneously inspiring and intimidating people. When she spoke, others generally leapt into action. This was an excellent ability to have when leading warriors on the battlefield, or when keeping fierce clan chiefs in line, but she found it was less useful when trying to work with the more sensitive among the young Arkers. They were not warriors and many of them were quite young and inexperienced. Calming their nerves and getting them to work together often required a more delicate touch, and this was where Wells excelled. His gentleness and quiet confidence worked wonders, and she had quickly learned to use his skills to her advantage. She was learning to trust his judgement on many things, but she knew he still did not completely trust her… Not that she entirely blamed him.

“Did everyone get a fair share of the food?” she asked him, not bothering with a greeting. She had been too tired earlier to wait for the meat to finish cooking, and had entrusted him with its equal distribution.

“Yes, though a few people complained that it was so little. Finn saved some for you and Aden.”

“It was too little… Hopefully our hunting parties will have better luck tomorrow.”

“They might have better luck if you would allow them to go further out, or send more groups,” Wells observed, watching her carefully as he rekindled their earlier argument.

“We’ve been over this, Wells… We can’t risk it.”

“These walls and weapons we’re making won’t do us any good if we’re starving, Black.”

“We won’t starve,” she growled, starting to get annoyed with the conversation. The headache that had been starting to recede was now returning full force. She was beginning to wish that she had not left her tent, though her nightmare and subsequent conversation with Aden had left her far too restless and melancholy for sleep.

“It was only their second day out hunting. They’ll get better with practice, and I’m confident they’ll find more to eat tomorrow. Besides, if we send too many people out looking for food, it doesn’t leave enough back here to defend the camp should we be attacked.”

She didn’t know why she bothered explaining this again. She and Wells had already had this same argument several times over the past three days. Ever since she, Finn and Aden had returned to camp with their story of being attacked by the Reapers, Wells had not seemed to fully understand the level of danger surrounding them. This frustrated her. True, it was probably due to the fact that she and Finn had agreed to downplay what had happened with the Reapers, so she had no one but herself to blame. They’d described being attacked by a group of savage men, of course, but rather than focus on the attack itself, they had instead highlighted the fact that _another_ man had helped to save them.

Their reasons for doing so had been twofold. Lexa had wanted to avoid causing a panic while also opening the door for eventual peace with _Trikru_ … Assuming their surprise savior was who she suspected him to be, of course.

“I hope you’re right,” Wells grumbled, “It’s not too late to go to Mount Weather, you know.”

Lexa didn’t reply, refusing to take the bait, and their conversation lapsed into silence. The other people at the fire slowly drifted away to find their own makeshift beds, and eventually Wells also left her. She stood alone for some time, her mind drifting and thoughts very far away. Her extravagant bed in Polis felt entire lifetimes distant, as did the sensation of Clarke’s lips on her own. Lexa raised her hand, touching her own lips, lost suddenly in her memories of the one night together they had shared. Her skin flushed at how clearly she could remember it all, and her chest ached. What would Clarke think of all this? Of her, here among her friends, leading them in her stead? Would she approve of what Lexa was trying to do? All Clarke had ever wanted was for her people to be safe… Somehow, working to make sure that _Skaikru_ was safe even in this alternate reality made Lexa feel just a bit closer to her.

“Couldn’t sleep?” a voice asked, and Lexa pulled herself from her thoughts, surprised that he had managed to sneak up on her. For all his faults, Finn was turning out to be a bit of a natural on the ground, and his abilities at tracking and moving quietly through the forest were improving every day. He was currently leading one of the more successful hunting parties, though he still refused to carry a weapon and let others do the killing of any animals they came across. His dislike for violence was baffling… Was this truly the same man who had slaughtered so many of her innocent people? The more she got to know him, the more improbable it seemed. Anyone was capable of doing truly horrible things, she knew, but the Finn she was beginning to get to know doing so seemed highly unlikely.

“Finn,” she said, nodding her head once to acknowledge his presence, but ignoring his question. Finn did not seem to be as intimidated by her as the others were – though she knew the violence of three days ago had frightened and disgusted him – and he had the frustrating tendency to ask probing, personal questions that she would rather not answer.

He watched her profile for several quiet moments, waiting to see if she would say more, then continued.

“I have some food for you and Aden. I can grab it for you now, if you like,” he told her.

“No, that’s not necessary. Aden is asleep now. We’ll eat in the morning.”

“Ahh, breakfast… I’m almost jealous.”

Another silence descended, and he didn’t look away, still studying her carefully.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, “You seem a bit… off.”

Lexa glanced at him sharply, her eyes narrowing and features hardening into a cold mask. He was far too observant for his own good. He seemed to have a much heightened sense of empathy, and his ability to read what people were really thinking and feeling verged on the uncanny sometimes. It was yet another reason why she felt she always needed to be on guard around him.

“It’s nothing that concerns you, Finn,” she snapped, holding his stare in challenge for a moment before turning back to the fire. Now she was _really_ regretting ever having left her tent earlier. First Wells, now Finn? Were these young Sky People merely stupidly brave, or was she losing her ability to make even these children fear her?

As if to prove her thoughts to be true, rather than back down at her words and glare, Finn took a step closer, expression sympathetic in the firelight.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?”

“It doesn’t seem I can stop you,” she growled, clenching her jaw. Her emotions had been unusually raw ever since waking from the nightmare of her death, and she was also very, very tired. Therefore, she felt less prepared than usual to face difficult questions from Finn.

“I was wondering why you are so determined to protect everybody. Why you were willing to risk your life, and the life of your brother, to save mine… You’ve lost people before, haven’t you? People you care about?” he asked, and she felt a stab of pain at his words.

_Of all the times to come to me and ask me about who I have lost, he had to choose right now?_

But he wasn’t finished.

“You weren’t able to save them, and now I think you feel like you need to try to save everyone else.”

Lexa turned to look at him, affected by his words despite herself. What could she say, truly? He was right, at least in part, but there was so much more she could never tell him… Never tell anyone, besides Aden. What motivations could she give these people? The others might believe she was just another one of them, and simply wanted them to survive until the Ark came down, but Finn seemed to sense that she was something more. He wanted to know who she really was, but that was not something she would ever be able to tell him.

“I’m just doing what’s necessary to keep us all alive, Finn,” she answered finally, giving the best answer that she could.

“Maybe, but it’s more than that,” he argued, not letting it go. He seemed to think for a moment, struggling with something internally, then he asked her something else… Something that made her stop breathing completely.

“Who is Clark?”

He watched her face when he asked, saw her react to his question.

“When I found you on the dropship, when you first came out from inside the wall, you called that name a couple times… Who is he?” he asked gently.

“Not he… She,” Lexa corrected without thinking, swallowing past the sudden lump in her throat. She hadn’t thought anyone had noticed or remembered her calling Clarke’s name on the dropship, not in all the excitement and confusion. Had he also noticed how surprised she was to find Aden there? If he had, he might be doubting her entire story about why she was on the dropship in the first place.

“Oh, sorry, I just assumed it was a boy’s name,” Finn apologized. She wondered if she detected a hint of relief in his voice, then decided she had imagined it.

“Who is she?” he asked again, but Lexa had finally decided that she had had enough of this intrusive conversation. She stepped away from the fire, turning back towards her tent.

“Go to sleep, Finn,” she called over her shoulder, not bothering to look back at him as she spoke, “The hunting parties leave at first light.”

Lexa Black strode away from him then, vanishing into the night as soon as she had taken more than a dozen steps from the circle of light around the fire. She returned immediately to her tent and stripped off her sword, pack and jacket, leaving her boots on so that she could be ready to move at a moment’s notice. Lying down on her bunk once more, Finn’s last words to her echoed in her head, the weight of them heavy and immense, like an unanswered prophecy had accidentally been spoken.

_Who is she?..._

 

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Marcus Kane sat down on the edge of his bed in just his pants and socks, his chest still pale and bare in the light of the single lamp that illuminated his room. He bent over, fishing underneath the bed for his discarded boots, pulling them both on and tightening the laces slowly. Behind him, his sheets rustled as the languorous figure of the woman lying on top of them stretched like a satisfied cat, completely unselfconscious in her nakedness. He turned to look down at her, a strange mix of guilt, arousal, and even something that might be affection swirling around within him at the sight.

 _This was a mistake_ , he thought.

“This was a mistake,” he said, repeating his thought out loud, “This can’t happen again.”

Anya raised one elegant eyebrow at his words.

“Oh, Marcus, don’t be so dramatic,” she sighed, closing her eyes and stretching one final time. She opened them again, frowning when she saw the expression on his face.

“Let’s not pretend this was anything more than what it was,” she scolded, sliding past him and standing smoothly, her movements unhurried. He watched her from his seat on the bed as she went back and forth across the room, gathering up her scattered clothing and pulling it on piece by piece.

“What was _this_ , exactly?” he asked, frustrated with himself for asking the moment the words left his mouth.

Anya tossed him an annoyed glance.

“Are you getting sentimental on me now?” she asked, her voice a sultry purr, but her words carried a clear warning.

“Of course not… I know you better than that. Besides, you know I’m not the sentimental type.”

“Really?” she drawled, turning back to him and now almost fully dressed. Her lips were twisted into a tiny smirk, eyes glittering with amusement.

_What’s that supposed to mean?_

He frowned, uncomfortable as always with her finding amusement at his expense. The single word seemed to pack layers of hidden meaning, but he had learned not to try to decipher and analyze every little thing she said. Doing something like that with Anya Petrova could drive any man crazy.

“Why did you come here tonight, Anya?” he asked, sidestepping her comment entirely.

“I should think it was obvious,” she replied, now slowly doing up the buttons on the white blouse she had been wearing beneath her suit jacket when she arrived at his door an hour earlier. This wasn’t the first time they had slept together, of course, but it had been quite a while, and Kane had been surprised to find her there with that predatory gleam in her eye. He should have turned her away right then and there. Getting involved with her at this point in time was completely unethical, despite the fact that any “relationship” they’d ever had had always been strictly of the physical sort. Anya was an incredibly complex, guarded woman, and she kept nearly everyone at arms-length… Even her occasional lovers. He was no exception, however, he did feel he understood her better than most, and he had always respected her intelligence and unbreakable will.

“You still wear that old thing?” he asked, noticing when she pulled a necklace from her pocket and slipped it around her neck. It was a gold, Russian Orthodox styled cross on a thin gold chain, and very few people knew she wore it. The old religions were not popular on the Ark, and hadn’t been for some time. He had never been able to determine if Anya truly had faith, or if she simply wore the necklace as a family heirloom.

“Everyone needs to believe in something more from time to time,” she said, pulling on her shoes, “Didn’t your mother teach you that?”

“I’ve forgotten most of what my mother taught me about her faith… It’s not what is keeping this Ark and the people on it alive.”

“Choosing not to remember is not the same as forgetting,” she told him, fully dressed now and standing by the hatch door, clearly ready to leave now that she had gotten what she wanted from him.

“And I think you’re wrong, by the way… Faith is _exactly_ what is keeping us all alive. Oh, not faith in God, necessarily, but faith in something… Your mother has her tree, and you have your precious book, but it’s all the same, really.”

Kane heard the disdain in her voice when she said the words “precious book”, and he couldn’t help but glance at his single bookshelf where his well-worn copy of the Ark Charter rested.

“The Ark Charter is the only, the _only_ _thing_ keeping humanity from complete disaster. Faith has nothing to do with it. It’s a fact,” he declared passionately, believing every word. He paused and swallowed, but it didn’t help keep him from issuing his next poorly veiled warning.

“People who forget that… People who think they can live outside the rules, or break them and get away with it, are only damning themselves in the end, Anya, and potentially many others.”

The Councilwoman’s eyes narrowed, her entire demeanor changing in an instant. Immediately, Marcus knew that he had just said too much.

“Is that what this is about, then? Is this an interrogation, Marcus?”

He felt a chill run through him at her words. She knew. She might not know exactly what was going on, be she knew, or at least suspected, that he _was_ investigating her. He wondered if she had known before she even came here, and if this hadn’t all been a clever act from the start… It was certainly something she was more than capable of.

“Not an interrogation… A warning. You need to be careful, Anya. You know I don’t agree with everything the Chancellor is doing, but the Charter is still the Charter, and I am still the Ark’s Chief of Security. Jaha has never liked you. If he discovers anything, _anything_ he can use against you, you know he won’t hesitate, and he’ll make sure he drags anyone else you might have gotten involved down with you. You need to think carefully about whether or not it’s worth it.”

Anya stared back at him coldly, any earlier hint of teasing warmth now completely gone. He couldn’t explain exactly why he had let her into his room, or why he was warning her now. They may have been lovers on occasion, but they were _not_ friends. She was loyal only to her people on Polaris station, and he was sworn solely to uphold the Ark Charter. Often, those two interests did not align. Jaha had ordered him to search for a link between Anya and the unregistered boy, but his observations so far over the last few days had revealed many confusing results. He was convinced she was about to do something foolish and very illegal, and her reaction now only solidified his suspicions.

“Careful… If I didn’t know better, I might think you actually cared about what happens to me.”

“I care about doing what’s right.”

“That’s always been your problem, Kane,” she said, and he could feel the walls and gates locking back into place completely between them when she switched to using his last name. With Anya, the line between affection and antagonism could be a very fine one indeed, and he now realized that she had in fact let down her barriers a bit with him earlier. She’d been teasing him, at ease and relaxed – though most would have been hard pressed to use those words to describe her behavior, as she was exceedingly difficult to read on an easy day – but not anymore. The fierce, determined regard of a first-rate political mind stared back at him now, her face unreadable and each word carefully chosen.

“You’ve always thought that some little squiggles of ink in a book written a hundred years ago hold all the answers… That right and wrong is as black and white as the pages you love so much.”

She took a step closer, looking for a moment like a lean, dangerous animal that had just cornered its prey.

“But the universe isn’t black and white… It can’t be contained in your little book, and saving what’s left of the human race is going to require more from us that just reading rules from a page. It’s going to require _faith_ … I know you had it once. You are your mother’s son, after all. Maybe it’s time for you to find it again.”

Anya opened the hatch with a loud groan from its worn hinges. Once on the other side, she turned on her heel, pausing for a moment to look at him before pulling it shut behind her.

“Thanks for the warning, Marcus,” she said, her voice softening to a tone that was much gentler than he ever remembered hearing before. He looked up, meeting her eyes across the room.

“No matter what you might tell yourself, I think you have a much bigger heart locked away inside that tin soldier chest than you give yourself credit for…”

With that, the door clanked shut, and Marcus suddenly found himself alone again. After a moment, he stood and crossed to the bookshelf, reaching instinctively for the text he had dedicated his life to. He held it in his hands for several minutes, turning the small book over and over, feeling the spots where the dark blue cover had worn down to a dull gray. He flipped through its pages, seeing his scrawled notes covering almost every bit of available space, years of study, thought and dedication evident in each careful annotation. He went back to his bed and lay down, letting the Ark Charter rest just above his heart on his chest, his eyes fixed sightlessly on the ceiling above as his mind turned over every word Anya had said.

Marcus Kane fell asleep like that sometime later, alone in his small, Spartan room. At some point in the night, the precious book he held slipped from his grasp and fell, landing unceremoniously on the floor beside him, but he did not wake.

 

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Raven opened her eyes to the sounds of loud, obnoxious pounding on her door. She groaned, fumbling at her nightstand to bring on a single light, squinting at the clock beside her bed as she did so. It was just after 2 am, station time, and waking up felt like being hit by a meteor and then getting dragged kicking and screaming across the solar system. Who could be at her door so early? This was her first time sleeping in her own bed for a couple days, as she had only allowed herself short catnaps on Polaris while working furiously on the pod. Sinclair had finally convinced her to go home and get cleaned up and some real sleep, however, and she had been forced to agree that she needed it. Sleeping on the floor or in a chair was rough, it was true, but smelling like a greasy, unwashed sock? That was unacceptable.

The knocking started up again, insistent, and Raven pulled herself to her feet, crossing over to the hatch and flinging it open angrily.

“There had better be a goddamn fire,” she snarled, not waiting to see who it was.

“I’ll start a fire under your ass if it will get you moving faster,” Anya replied, shoving past Raven while the younger woman was still blinking at her in surprise. She closed the hatch immediately, knowing that the Councilwoman would demand she do so before she would talk.

“Anya? What are you doing here? It’s after 2 am… Is everything alright?”

“No, as a matter of fact,” she told her, and Raven could hear the stress in her voice. This was unusual. She had heard her be angry, sarcastic, arrogant, and even amused before, but never stressed. Something significant must be going on.

“We might be out of time… I need you back on Polaris, _now._ ”

“But… What do you mean? What’s changed?” Raven asked, confused. Hadn’t they discussed the fact that they had a few more days, at least? Surely the Council hadn’t met and voted for population reduction in the middle of the night?

“We can’t talk here, not even with the door closed. We need to go to Polaris, it’s the only place that’s reasonably safe. Pack everything you might need for the next few days… I don’t know _when_ you’ll get to come back here.”

Raven sucked in a breath. Anya had said “when”, but she had really meant “if”. Clearly something had happened that meant they now needed to launch much sooner than expected. She felt her excitement growing, bringing her fully awake and drowning out any nervousness.

“Okay, fine, just give me a couple of minutes.”

She packed quickly, but also carefully since she knew she probably wouldn’t be back, and within a half hour they were safely on Polaris once more. Anya let out a sigh of relief the moment they set foot on her station, and Raven struggled to contain the burst of curiosity that made her want to pump her for answers immediately. Instead, she waited until they had passed through all the required security gates and protocols, entering the highly secure inner section of Polaris and the launch bay where she had spent the last week working on the escape pod.

“Alright, we’re here… Now, tell me what the hell is going on?”

“I have reason to believe, and they are very strong reasons, that Security is investigating me and anyone I have come into contact with over the past week,” Anya told her, and she felt her blood drain from her head at the words.

“Do they know about our plan, then? About the escape pod?”

“No, I don’t think they know anything solid yet, but they must have something, and just being under suspicion puts the whole mission at risk. We need to launch as soon as possible. The longer we wait, the greater the chance we will find ourselves floated before we can even commit the real crime.”

“Can they really do that? Punish us even if we haven’t launched the pod yet? That hardly seems fair,” Raven complained, not able to hide the worry that crept into her voice.

“Think about it, Raven… You and Sinclair have been pilfering parts and supplies from other engineering projects, not to mention what was needed for the radio. That’s more than enough already to float you both. As for myself, I’m sure that idiot Jaha could come up with some corruption or treason charges that would more than stick. They obviously don’t have anything real yet, or they would already have come after us, but if they discover the pod, we’re done for.”

“Shit… Shit! Okay… let’s see,” Raven muttered, hurrying over to her haphazard workstation and shuffling through the notes she had scribbled on torn pieces of paper.

“How much time do we really have, then?” she asked, “I mean, are we talking minutes, hours… days? Just how crazy do I need to be willing to be?”

Anya thought hard for a moment, her sharp features pale and jaw noticeably clenched.

“Hours, probably. Maybe a day… two, if we are very lucky.”

“Shit!” Raven repeated, closing her eyes for a moment to better think.

_It’s okay, just think… Think! Most of the major repairs are done, and you finally got the navigation systems back online, so that’s good. There’s still that corroded exterior panel that needs to be replaced, so who knows if the pressure seals will even hold, and then there’s the tricky matter of fuel... As in, the pod doesn’t have any yet. But Sinclair said he had a plan for that, so maybe we can do that sooner rather than later? Oh, and then there’s about a dozen unresolved, small mechanical issues that could rear their ugly heads and come up to collectively bite me in the ass during entry and landing, but who’s worried about those, really? It’s not like the catastrophic failure of any one system on this pod at any point in time will kill me… Except that it will._

“We can launch today,” Raven told her, opening her eyes.

“Really? Is it safe?”

“Yes… and no, not really. The two biggest issues right now are that faulty exterior panel and fuel. Sinclair said he had a plan for the fuel, and I think I know how to get around our potential loss of pressure issue, so as long as he can get the fuel today, we should be good to go.”

“That’s it?” Anya asked, a little disbelief in her voice. “I thought you guys said there was a lot more to be fixed?”

“There was... There is,” she admitted, “I got the avionics and navigation working earlier today, however, and that was one of the biggest issues that absolutely needed to be fixed. Everything else is small stuff, for the most part. They might fail, and they will definitely cause problems if they do, but they won’t keep us from launching. If we make it through entry, assuming everything else goes perfectly, the landing should be survivable as long as the chute deploys correctly... There was no way to test the chute. It will either work, or it won’t, and you can name the giant crater after me in future history books.”

The politician looked less than comforted by her explanations.

“Are you sure, Raven?” she asked with a note of concern. The emotion in the older woman’s voice was new and unexpected.

_Does hard-ass, I-don’t-trust-anybody-so-you-better-watch-yourself Anya Petrova actually care about what happens to me?_

“This mission… It’s more important, more critical than you can possibly know. We must establish working communication with the ground! It’s incredibly important that we be able to talk to Lexa, and that we find out once and for all if it is safe for the rest of us to return to the ground. I am not one given to making gross exaggerations, Raven, but the future of the human race literally hangs in the balance here… Can you do this? Can you land the pod safely?”

_I think she does care, but it’s not only about me. It’s about the mission… and Lexa Black, her assistant that she keeps talking about. Just why in the hell is it so important to talk to Lexa? What does that have to do with convincing the Ark it is safe, and stopping the population culling?_

Raven let all of her worries and thoughts roll through her. The self-doubt and fear that many others might have felt in her situation flashed within her for only the briefest of moments, then fled in the face of her absolute confidence and determination.

Didn’t Anya know who she was talking to? She was Raven Reyes… the best damn mechanic on the Ark, and the youngest zero-G mechanic in fifty years.

…Fifty-two, to be exact.

“Of course I can,” she said, smiling widely.

“Piece of cake.”

 

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_Author’s Note:_

_Anya and Kane, sitting in a tree… Wait, no, Lincoln was in the tree. Sorry, my bad! Honestly though, the two of them just kind of happened. Don’t worry, Kabby shippers! I am fully in the Kabby camp. I’m not sure who was using who more in that situation, Kane or Anya, but they both have a lot of emotional growing they need to do… Separately, I mean. They are in no way a romantic couple, so worry not!_

_This chapter and the previous chapter were a bit light on the action, but I promise the next chapter is very action heavy. I’m a sucker for character interactions, as you may have noticed, but I am trying not to get too bogged down with the story. Raven is coming down, and we’ll be back to Clarke and the Skaibona gang real soon, so things are going to start to get pretty intense for our girl Lexa! I think the calm before the storm is pretty much over.  ;)_

_Just a note on my writing schedule. I am going to try really, really hard to stick to publishing AT LEAST one chapter a week, but the goal is two chapters per week. That being said, some chapters are longer than others, and I do have a full-time job and a life and stuff, so sometimes it just won’t happen. Sorry in advance. One 100% guarantee I can definitely make, however, is that this story will get finished. I already have a kickass (in my biased opinion) ending in mind, and it would be disappointing not to get to write it, so unless everyone just up and quits on me, I feel comfortable making that promise._

_Okay this note is way too long now. Thanks for reading, commenting and subscribing! I appreciate all of you awesome people!_

_-FlyUpInSky_


	12. Crash and Burn

_Author’s Note:_

_Buckle your seatbelts boys and girls! Things are about to get messy…_

_-FlyUpInSky_

 

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Aden held very still under Lexa’s hands as she brushed back his short, blond hair to better see the healing wound on his scalp. That morning had broken on a surprisingly warm day with not a cloud in sight, the first such day since they had landed on the ground, and the bright sun shone off of the reddish gold locks under her fingers. She released her hold on the boy, stepping back from him, and Aden immediately leapt to his feet, his body thrumming with excitement and anticipation.

“It looks even better than yesterday, right? So, I can come with you today?” he asked, blue eyes fixed confidently on hers. Lexa had not allowed Aden to leave the camp but for a few short hunting expeditions in the nearby woods, and he was clearly anxious not to be left behind any more. The cut on his scalp had not seemed terrible, but as a seasoned warrior, she knew better than to underestimate head wounds. It had been four days since the night they fought the Reapers in the woods, however, and the cut had scabbed nicely and the swelling completely disappeared, and Aden had reassured her frequently over the past few days that he wasn’t suffering from any headaches or unusual side effects. Reluctantly, she had to agree that he was ready.

“I’m no healer, Aden, but yes, it looks to be healing nicely,” she agreed, then added, “And I will need you with me these next couple days… If we do find _Trigeda_ lands, or make contact with the man who helped us against the Reapers, then I want you there. Gather what you need and join us at the dropship. We’re going to go over the plan with the others one more time before we leave.”

The young _Natblida_ gave a fierce, satisfied grin at this and hurried off to their shared tent without waiting for any further encouragement. She watched him go, quietly amused by his eagerness. If she were to be completely honest, Lexa was also eager to get going. Though they had been busy and working incredibly hard at the camp, it had still been a restless few days for both of them. With each day that passed without further attack from Reapers or any others, and with each new section of the camp’s fortifications completed, Lexa had become more and more anxious to head back out and continue searching for any sign of the Clans. More than once she had considered sneaking away in the middle of the night again, but logic had argued against it. The priority had needed to be to focus first on preparing and securing the camp, building weapons, and on starting to train the Sky People to fight and hunt. With the wall and gate now finally complete and their training begun, it was time for Lexa and Aden to get back to trying to discover what was truly going on.

Learning the status of the Clans would be critical for their long term survival, she knew, and there were also her own duties and responsibility as the Commander to consider. With the Spirit hidden away in space all these years, she feared that the Entity had been allowed to exist unchecked and unrestrained, and there was no telling what damage it had done in her absence. This may be a strange new world, but she was still responsible for protecting humanity from its influence, and she couldn’t do that by cowering behind the wooden walls that now surrounded the dropship.

The last time she and Aden had gone out into the forest together in search of answers, they had both nearly been killed. Had they been back among their birth clan, upon their victory and successful return, the whole village would have participated in a public ritual to celebrate the boy’s first kill in battle. As it was, they had instead spent several fretful hours explaining what had happened in careful terms and convincing the young Sky People of what needed to be done to protect the camp, then collapsed into exhausted sleep. It was hardly the triumphant return that Aden had deserved after how well he had proven himself that night. Lexa wondered if she shouldn’t take him aside later and perform a small part of the ritual in private. They may not truly be born of the Woods Clan in this world, but that didn’t mean they needed to abandon everything they had known, valued, and believed in during their previous lives. A warrior’s first kill in battle was a sacred thing, after all. In the eyes of the clans, Aden was now no longer a child, but a grown man with all the rights and responsibilities of an adult. It was a pivotal moment in the life of any young warrior, and she was proud of him for having accomplished it at such a young age.

When Lexa arrived at the dropship and climbed up its ramp, she found most of the team she had assembled the night before already waiting for her there. Their conversations broke off when they saw her enter, their eyes all turning to her expectantly. She scanned the gathered faces to see who was missing, coming up short by two people.

“Where’s Miller?” she asked.

“He was on his way, should be here soon,” someone said.

“And Wells?”

“Right behind you,” he called, the sounds of his heavy footsteps loud on the metal ramp. Lexa turned, nodding to him in greeting as he joined them. Wells was not in fact coming with them on this mission, but would instead be in charge of watching over things back at the camp. He hadn’t agreed to stay behind without a fight, however. They had spent almost an hour arguing about it the night before, but in the end she had finally succeeded in convincing him. The stubborn young man was still reluctant to let her out of his sight, and more than once Wells had brought up the fact that she had never fully explained why she and Aden had decided to search for Finn in the middle of the night, and why they had slipped away from camp to do so without telling anybody. If it weren’t for Finn vouching for her and backing up her story, she doubted he would have believed them about the Reapers at all.

Aden and Miller walked in together a moment later, and Lexa moved to stand in the center of the dropship, turning in a slow circle so that she could carefully study each of the faces of those she had chosen. There was Miller, of course, quiet but confident, with an almost cocky, mischievous air about him. He was smart and had been dependable so far, but she didn’t doubt that he had been a highly successful troublemaker back on the Ark. Jones, who was large and athletic, his black hair shaved down to the barest of stubbles. Though not as trustworthy as she would have liked, he was one of the largest, oldest, and most powerful of the teens that had come down on the dropship, and with an axe in his hand and some more training, he would be downright terrifying in battle someday. Atom was also tall and well-muscled, though not as much as Jones. This, along with his serious and more thoughtful nature, had all but guaranteed him a place on this mission. His levelheadedness and calming influence on the others might come in handy when, and if, they succeeded in making contact with _Trikru_.

Lexa had wanted to bring the girl Harper along, but in the end had decided instead to leave her at camp with Wells. Thought she was gaining confidence and ability every day, the girl was not yet much of a fighter. Her smarts, cleverness and problem solving skills would be of better use to Wells and the rest of the camp. Instead, Lexa had chosen a different girl named Monroe. She was a short but athletic looking young woman with intense, serious eyes and hair that was carefully braided back and away from her face, and she had earlier shown some true natural ability with a sword. Monroe had a surface confidence that seemed promising, but Lexa also sensed an undercurrent of deep uncertainty and fear in her, and she wasn’t yet completely sure how the girl would handle herself under stress. That was true for almost all of them, however. If they did run into Reapers on this mission, the bravery of each and every one of them would be sorely tested. There was simply no telling how any of these young Sky People would perform when put to the test. Either they would prove themselves to be survivors, or they would not, in which case they would not last long as castaways on the surface of this dangerous world, no matter what Lexa did.

And of course, Finn Collins was also there. Despite the fact that he still refused to carry a weapon, she had decided early on to bring him with for two reasons. First, because this was meant to be a peace mission, and he was easily the most peace-minded among them, and second, because she wasn’t sure she could keep him from coming even if she tried. Something Anya had taught her early on about leadership had always stuck with her, and it was very true in this case: never publicly issue an order that you knew couldn’t, or wouldn’t, be followed. It only made you look weak when the order was inevitably broken, and weakness was not a trait that people suffered long in their leaders.

Altogether, herself and Aden included, the group now numbered seven. It was a carefully chosen number. Too many, and they might appear to be invaders or a raiding party. Too few, and they would not be able to defend themselves against attack. Even with her and Aden’s superior fighting abilities, these five Sky People would need to be enough to help them if they got into trouble, whether it be with Reapers or anyone else.

“I spoke with each of you last night, so I know most of you understand what the purpose of our mission is today, but let me again make myself clear,” Lexa began, her voice dropping into a low growl at the end, and the group collectively froze, their eyes now rapt on her face.

“This is a peace mission… We are _not_ looking to pick a fight with any of the people who are already living here on the ground. Finn has told you all the story of the man who helped us several nights ago. It is my hope that there are more of his people, and that they might also be willing to help us. If we are to survive here on the ground, then we _cannot_ do it alone. If there _are_ other survivors, then we need them to be our friends and allies, _not_ our enemies. Is there anyone here who does not agree with what I have just said?”

Dead silence greeted her question, several people shaking their heads nervously, and Finn smirked back at her irreverently when she met his eyes.

“Good. Let’s go over the plan, then. Aden, the map please.”

Aden pulled out the old topographical map that had been sent down with them in the meager supplies aboard the dropship, spreading it out on the floor for all to see. The Chancellor had intended for them to use it to find Mount Weather, and it had taken some work to convince Wells to hand it over to her. Lexa briefed each of them on their planned route, one that would take them further into what she had known before to be _Trigeda_ lands. The trip would take two full days and one night if all went according to plan. Rather than a specific destination like the village she and Aden had visited previously, this mission took them in a carefully chosen arc away from the Mountain before returning to the dropship. With any luck, they would find a different village where people still lived, or maybe a small trading post, though at this point she would just be happy to find any signs of life that wasn’t Reapers.

Once everyone seemed to understand their mission and their route, Lexa had Aden fold up the map and put it in her pack for safe keeping. After checking over everyone’s equipment and weapons, to include what small amount of extra food they were able to bring with them, she ordered them to meet at the gate and be ready to depart in the next few minutes.

“Are you sure about this?” Wells asked her once the last of them had shuffled out of the dropship, joining her in the doorway at the top of the ramp. “If there _are_ people already living out there, they might as well kill us as help us. Wouldn’t it be better to wait for the rest of the Ark to come down first? We’re only a hundred people right now… If they find out we’re here, and then decide we _are_ their enemies, they could easily wipe us out before help arrives.”

It was an astute observation, and a politically sound one as well. In general, even when seeking peace it was still always preferable to negotiate from a position of strength, and one hundred kids with a handful of crude weapons and no real military training to speak of hardly projected strength.

“Perhaps,” she agreed, “But remember, in all likelihood, whoever it was that helped us has already informed his people that we are here. In that case, isn’t it better to be the ones who initiate first contact? Better _we_ control how and when we meet these people, and with a small, carefully chosen group, rather than risk the whole camp when they finally decide to come and check us out themselves.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Wells grudgingly agreed, frowning into the distance.

“Besides, Wells,” she added, a note of dry humor in her voice, the smallest of smiles turning up one corner of her mouth, “We will have the great peacemaker himself, Finn Collins, along with us… What could possibly go wrong?”

He laughed, his white teeth flashing as he smiled broadly, dark brown eyes twinkling with shared amusement as he glanced over at her.

“I’m glad the Spacewalker’s going with you, Black, and not staying back here with me… I don’t know why you’re bringing that idiot along, though. You don’t really trust him, do you? You know he’ll just do something reckless. His stupid stunt on the Ark cost us over three months of oxygen… I don’t care if he was only seventeen, my father should have floated him right away for that.”

Lexa frowned, searching her few memories of the Ark. Suddenly, new knowledge of what he spoke of began to fill her, flooding into her mind as though released from someplace deep within. This was what always seemed to happen. Whenever she purposefully tried to remember something from her life as Lexa Black, the memories often wouldn’t come on their own. Then, someone would say or do something that triggered a memory, and suddenly she would be filled with new knowledge that hadn’t been there before. It was incredibly frustrating, but Lexa was beginning to get used to the sensation. Actively trying to remember didn’t seem to work, so all she could do was hope that important memories would continue to become available to her when she needed them.

 “If you’re worried about me trusting him, then don’t be,” she told him dismissively, “I can handle Finn. You just worry about taking care of the camp while I’m gone.”

Wells grunted in agreement.

“Any other last words of wisdom before you leave, oh fearless leader?” he asked sarcastically, though his tone was friendly and teasing. She thought she detected the faintest hint of anxiety as well, however, and Lexa sensed that he was not as confident about running things without her as he let on.

“Yes,” she said, her eyes following the dark, lean figure of Murphy as he passed by, his eyes shooting daggers of hatred in their direction before he moved out of sight. The bitter young man still wore mottled green and brown bruises on his neck and the side of his face, embarrassing reminders no doubt of how totally she had humiliated him on their second day on the ground.

“Be careful with Murphy while I’m gone… The only one he hates more than me right now is you, and I won’t be here this time if he decides to come after you. It’s not just him, either. There are still a few sympathetic ears that listen to what he has to say, and he’s not the only one who resents you for being the Chancellor’s son.”

He looked troubled at this, apprehension now clear on his face. The warning had needed to be said, however. The problem with beating someone into submission was that the moment they healed, you could never again trust that person at your back. Murphy would need to be dealt with eventually. He was too much of a wildcard to leave as he was, but that was a problem for another day. In the meantime, hopefully Wells would stay alert and nothing catastrophic would happen during the two days she was gone.

“You be careful out there too, Black,” Wells said after a moment, his face serious. “I still don’t trust you, and you can be, like, seriously scary sometimes, but… this camp needs you. Try to get back in one piece, okay?”

Lexa nodded once, just the slightest upward tilt of her chin, a bit touched by his sentiment despite herself. He had been trying to act tough since the moment they landed, she knew, but it wasn’t who he truly was. Inside, he was a gentle, trusting soul who only wanted to do what was right for his people. Suddenly, Lexa was worried about what would become of this young man, not just in the next few days, but in the long run as well. Would his pureness of heart be able to survive for long on the ground, or would it eventually be taken from him, destroyed by the harsh realities of what it took to survive in this world? She never again wanted to see the level of broken despair she had seen in Clarke’s eyes in Polis, the day she held a knife to her throat, her eyes filled with tears.

“I’ll be fine, Wells,” she reassured him confidently, not letting her internal thoughts show. “I’ll see you in two days. Keep everyone close to camp while we’re gone… There’s no telling what kind of hornets’ nest we might kick up out there. If we aren’t back in two days… just wait longer.”

He laughed humorlessly, and with that final bit of advice, Lexa strode down the ramp, heading for the front gate where she could see that her team now waited for her. As she approached, she saw four other people enter the camp, a heavy burden slung from a large branch between them. It was that morning’s hunting party, returned early with some obvious success. People were emerging from their tents and hustling over to see what they had managed to kill, and voices rose in excitement as she neared.

“What is it?” Lexa asked Finn, coming to stand next to him.

“Looks like those spear-throwers finally worked! They surprised a deer and managed to injure it… I guess they had to chase the poor thing for a while before they could kill it, though,” he told her, an odd mix of excitement and sympathy coloring his voice.

“Good, they’re getting better,” Lexa replied, then frowned, a new thought occurring to her, “Just how far did they have to chase it?”

“I don’t know… they didn’t say. Why?”

She shook her head and began walking to meet the victorious hunting party that was now surrounded by curious teenagers, not bothering to answer him. She only made it several strides, however, before Aden’s thin voice raised in alarm made her abruptly stop and turn, her hand reaching for her sword by reflex.

“ _Heda!_ ” he shouted again, even louder this time, and her eyes found him standing near the still wide-open front gate just as her sword cleared its sheath. He was not looking at her, she saw, but was instead focused on the woods beyond the camp, and her own eyes shifted to follow the line of his gaze, her breath escaping her in a startled hiss when she saw the dark, menacing figure that now stood just outside the camp’s entrance. In a flash, she covered the distance between her and Aden, sprinting to stand beside him. He clutched one of the long, well-fashioned spears they had taken from the dead Reapers, and together they stood with their weapons ready, facing the man who had just emerged from the wilderness beyond. Inside the camp, she could hear the young Sky People beginning to notice what was happening, a ripple of panicked noises spreading behind her as they reacted to the man’s unexpected presence with variations of surprise and alarm.

Lexa was about to shout over her shoulder for them to be quiet and remain calm, but she froze when the masked man took a step towards them, his hands open and unthreatening at his sides. Her eyes met his, and she was surprised by how familiar they were. _Was_ this him, then, as she had earlier suspected? Until he spoke or removed his mask, it would be impossible to know for sure.

“They’re coming,” the man said, his voice so low it was almost a growl, and now she knew for sure that it was indeed Lincoln, though his words were ominous enough that she didn’t feel any relief at the realization.

Lexa was opening her mouth to ask him _who_ was coming when she heard them, the hairs rising on the back of her neck, her eyes widening in horrified understanding as a feral howling filled the dark forest beyond.

_Reapers!_

She spun, not caring now that she was putting her exposed back to the _Trikru_ warrior. The young faces of the gathered Sky People were wide and scared, those who were nearest having heard the words Lincoln had spoken, and all of them now able to hear the inhuman shouts of the approaching Reapers. In a matter of seconds, the previously rowdy, cheerful camp had become deadly silent, and her voice easily rose to reach everyone now standing out in the open.

“Close the gate!” she shouted. Then, when the young people failed to move immediately, but instead only stared back at her in shock, she added in an angry snarl that fairly crackled with energy, “Now, damn you! Unless you want to die, close the gate _now_!”

The howling outside grew in volume, and this combined with her shouts finally roused the stunned teens into action. Miller, Finn, and several others all leapt forward, throwing their combined strength against the heavy, awkward weight of the wooden gate. Others dropped what they were doing and scrambled to grab their weapons, confusion and fear thick in the air, the prized deer the hunting party had brought back now left abandoned in the mud.

Lexa turned back to Lincoln as soon as she saw that the others were starting to move.

“You, come inside, quick!” she ordered. She saw him hesitate, his body tensing as though he thought to flee entirely and leave them to their fate, but then the sound of the attacking Reapers grew even louder, and their eyes met in shared understanding. As close as they were, there was no way he would get away in time. Whatever his reasons for warning them had been, his best chance at survival was now inside the camp along with them.

Lincoln stepped through the closing gate just as the first wave of Reapers broke from the shadows of the trees behind him. He joined her and Aden, pulling his two swords free from his back, the three of them forming a line in front of the slowly narrowing gap of the still closing gate. It was a heavy, ponderous thing, its hinges rudely fashioned from dropship debris. When closed and barred, it made a formidable defense, but its crude construction meant that it was terribly difficult to move quickly. All of this was happening so fast, just a matter of seconds between when Lincoln had first spoke and now, and Lexa saw that they were already out of time. They were too close, and they had been too slow…

The gate wasn’t going to close in time.

The first Reaper tore through the narrowing gap, his savage face and beard painted red with blood, eyes crazed with an unnatural hunger. He was so fast that Lexa only had time to give a quick warning shout, but it didn’t save the young man pushing on the end of the gate nearest the opening. As soon as the Reaper leapt through, he turned and slashed with his large, hacked off blade, the jagged weapon slicing across the boy’s chest with a spray of blood and gore. The young man tumbled backwards, and the people who had been pushing next to him screamed and reeled back in terror as the Reaper raised his arm for another strike. His second swing never landed, however, as Lexa’s own sword flashed, crashing down on his arm and almost severing it completely at the elbow. The man shouted in pain and anger, his mangled arm hanging limp and bleeding, but his cries were almost immediately silenced when one of Lincoln’s swords found his neck, slicing it open and killing him instantly.

Two more Reapers leapt through the opening his falling body created, and she, Lincoln and Aden quickly cut them down before they could turn on anyone else. As they fell, she caught a glimpse of just how many more were coming through the trees.

_Spirits, there must be more than twenty of them!_

“Finn!” she shouted, seeing him hugging the wall with the others who had been forced to abandon the gate, desperate fear on their faces as they watched the violence erupt among them. The young man who had taken the blow from the first Reaper’s sword was now dying in the mud at their feet, his moans and screams of pain filling their ears with the hellish ballad that was the song of war, sung just as it had always been sung since the dawn of man.

“Finn, get them _back on the gate_! We need to close the gate!”

Lexa turned her attention back to the fight just in time, ducking a blow aimed at her head and stepping in to impale the savage man who had just tried to kill her. She and Lincoln were now forming the center of the fight at the gap, and Aden was now behind them and using the length of his spear to its proper advantage, darting forward to stab at the exposed Reapers whenever the opportunity presented itself. Five Reapers now lay dead or dying, their bodies partially blocking the narrow opening, but more were pushing their way through, and those on the other side were now pressing against the gate, their efforts slowly widening the gap even more.

 _If they get it all the way open, the camp will fall,_ Lexa thought, a chill anger filling her mind at the thought. She let the cold, deadly clarity fill her mind, taking her over from within, allowing her to do what needed to be done to survive. Conversely, her body felt hot and alive, the thrill of battle pulsing through her veins like liquid fire, adrenaline and heart pumping. She had fought many battles, and come close to death many times, but the combined terror and ecstasy of it was always the same.

Another, then another Reaper confronted her, each one coming more quickly than the last. In her peripheral vision, she could see Finn attempting to rally his comrades back to the gate. Soon, however, she was too consumed with her own immediate survival to be able to pay them any mind. They must hold the gap as best they could until the gate was closed. If too many Reapers made it inside, the walls of the camp would quickly become a trap from which they couldn’t escape, and it would turn into a bloodbath.

Lexa chopped down with her sword two-handed, the blow crushing the skull of the Reaper in front of her, her teeth bared in a fierce snarl as his blood sprayed outwards like the red wings of a gruesome butterfly.

_Finn better hurry up and close that damn gate!_

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Come on, hurry! Keep pushing!” Finn shouted, shoving at the shoulders of the two people directly next to him, pressing them back towards the gate. Miller and one other joined them, and soon they were all working together to push the gate closed. It wasn’t budging, however, and he quickly realized why. The men outside were _also_ pushing on the gate, and they were bigger, stronger, and had greater numbers. They needed more people, and he looked around frantically for help, dismayed when he saw no one else nearby.

 _Where the hell did everyone go?!_ He wondered, his growing fear a heavy knot in his stomach, sweat pouring down his skin from the combine exertion and terror.

Everything had happened so quickly. Lexa, Aden, and the unknown stranger from the forest were viciously hacking down the enemy as they streamed through the opening, but as he watched he saw one, then yet another slip past, the three defenders overwhelmed by their numbers and not able to stop them all. One of them turned towards Finn and the others manning the gate, his weapon raised, but suddenly Jones was there between them, the large boy bellowing like a maniac as he swung his axe at the savage about to attack them. The monstrous man was even more surprised by Jones’ arrival than Finn was, and the axe took him directly in the side, a scream of pain peeling his lips back from his gums in a grotesque caricature of a smile. It was not only Jones who was now joining the fight, he realized, but several others as well. Atom was there, stabbing somewhat awkwardly with his spear, and Monroe as well, her sword clutched in white-knuckled fear as she nevertheless darted forward to slash at the exposed back of one of the attackers fighting the Blacks.

More were coming now from within the camp, he saw, gripping makeshift weapons that had been hastily fashioned over the past few days, and Finn shouted and waved his arms, trying to get their attention.

“The gate! Help us close the gate!”

Several people saw and heard him, and with relief he watched as they moved to join him and the others in their efforts. His relief was short lived, however, as the heavy wood under his hands suddenly gave a mighty heave, shoving him and the others backwards, their feet slipping momentarily on the muddy earth beneath them. A large group of attackers spilled through the widened gap in a sudden rush, then the gate lurched again as more joined on his side. Finn and the people to his left and right shouted and swore in unison, pushing with all their might against the stubborn gate and those still trying to open it from the outside, desperation and fear fueling them to greater strength, and with a loud thump the gate finally slammed shut.

Outside the camp, angry howling rose in the air once more, the savage men furious at being denied access to their prey. Within the walls, the battle raged on.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Aden, stay with me!”

Lexa slashed and hacked her way back to the boy’s side, chaos and confusion now reigning within the walls of the camp. The gate had been closed moments before, it was true, but not before a large group of Reapers had managed to force themselves inside. She, Lincoln and Aden had been split apart in the onrushing wave of attackers, and she now struggled to stay near the boy, sudden fear for him replacing the cold anger which had filled her up until now. Two Reapers stepped between her and her path to Aden, and she parried their attacks automatically, her arms and body aching with fatigue as she twisted and dodged their strikes with growing desperation. She stabbed one of them in the upper thigh, then pulled free and backpedaled to avoid being skewered on the spear of the second man.

There were too many surrounding them, too many inside the gates. Lincoln was a whirlwind of death several feet away, his two swords dealing deadly strikes with every blow, but even he was beginning to get overwhelmed. Lexa didn’t have time to appreciate his fighting skill for long, however, as she was forced on the defensive again.

Just when she began to think she might actually die here, despite them having succeeded in holding the Reapers off until the gate was closed, more Sky People joined the fight alongside them. They fought bravely, though not with much skill, and some of them died just as bravely. However, they did not die entirely in vain.

Slowly, the battle shifted in their favor. The remaining Reapers bunched together, fear now growing on their faces as they realized that it was they who were now trapped. Lexa felt a fierce, savage joy fill her as she realized that they were about to win this fight, and she leapt forward, a renewed energy suffusing her limbs now that victory was within reach. The man she targeted stepped forward to meet her, crouched and ready for her attack despite the panic growing on his face.

It was in that moment that it happened. Something small and hard crashed into her from behind, knocking the breath from her lungs. Lexa stumbled, surprised, her mind immediately flashing back to the last time she had been struck from behind unexpectedly… The last time her breath had been suddenly stolen from her. Horrified, eyes becoming unfocused as the terrible memories of her death at Titus’ hands sought to completely overtake her, Lexa waited for the pain to explode in her chest… Waited for the outward spray of blood as the bullet left her body…

It never came. Instead, her breath returned, and she lifted her stunned eyes just in time to see the crouched Reaper before her lunge forward, his sword aimed for her chest. He never made it, however, as the spear of a young woman whose name she didn’t know pierced him from behind, bringing him to his knees in front of her, his eyes wide and mouth gaping open in pain and shock. She was also on her knees, she realized abruptly, not able to remember having lost her feet. She was therefore able to watch the life fade from the Reaper’s eyes from not a foot away, his weapon falling useless to the dirt in front of her. Taking in a shaky breath, Lexa climbed back to her feet, eyes searching for her next enemy, only to see that there were none.

The Reapers within the walls were dead, their bodies hacked and bloody in the mud, stacked in heaps before the closed gate and scattered like fallen leaves between the walls and the nearest ring of tents. The other Reapers were still locked outside, their angry shouts and growls fading as they melted further into the woods, retreating for now, it seemed. This part of the battle, at least, was won.

A stunned silence filled the camp, the moans of the dying and the panting breaths of those who survived the only sounds. There were nearly fifteen dead or dying Reapers within the walls, more than half the total number that had attacked, and after a quick visual count, Lexa was shocked to see that only four Sky People also lay unmoving and bloody on the ground, though many more were injured. So few, considering what they had faced, and yet, their deaths were a terrible blow regardless. They were young, foolishly brave, and they had won… and yet, war was never the pretty victories that were told in stories and sung in songs. Even in winning there was still sadness. However, there would be time enough to mourn those they had lost later, she knew.

She turned to face the Sky People who had joined in the fight, as well as those who had succeeded in securing the gate. They gazed back at her, their faces wild and flushed with the delirious joy of knowing that they had just survived. Raising her bloody sword high above her, Lexa tilted her head back and shouted their victory into the sky, and dozens of voices soon joined hers, their bloody hands and faces raised together defiantly towards the heavens above.

_Many miles above them on the Ark, surrounded by the cold, uncaring blackness of space, four more squares on a large viewing screen within Earth Monitoring blinked and went dark, their signals silenced forever in death._

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“What is it, Anya?” Raven asked, seeing the strange stillness that came over the woman. She’d just finished the last of the pre-launch checks and was about to don her spacesuit, and as that was generally a two person job, she’d asked the other woman to make herself useful and help her. Anya was still staring at her datapad, however, a blank expression on her face.

“Anya?” she prompted again, a bit alarmed by her unusual behavior. The older women looked up, her serious eyes meeting hers.

“They’ve started dying again,” she said, and Raven didn’t need her to explain who she meant by “they”.

“Who? How many?” she asked, dreading as always that Finn might be one of them. Wouldn’t it be just her luck to come all this way, to be mere minutes from launch, only to learn that her boyfriend had just died on the surface?

“I don’t know, the message doesn’t say, but an emergency Council meeting has already been scheduled. There was already a lot of pressure to act before, despite Jaha’s reassurances that the ground would soon be proven safe, but with these new deaths added to it… They might be just enough to tip the balance. They’ll call for a vote on the population reductions, I’m sure of it, and at this point I think the majority will carry.”

Raven let out a breath. They just couldn’t catch a damn break. First, Anya tells her that they need to launch early or they might all be arrested. Now, there was even more pressure for her to act quickly to regain contact with the Ark when, and if, she even made it to the ground, or else hundreds of people could be killed for no reason.

“Well, I guess I better get my ass moving then. This pod isn’t going to launch itself.”

Moving quickly but methodically, directing Anya to help her as needed, Raven pulled on her spacesuit, fingers brushing the sown on raven and four leaf clover patches on either shoulder for luck, just as she always did before a spacewalk. This was no different from any other mission she had done, she kept telling herself, though she knew it was a lie. Currently, Raven put her odds of dying in a fiery explosion at around fifty percent, and her odds of landing safely at right around twenty-five percent… The missing one fourth was for any other as yet unforeseen, horrible outcome that didn’t result in her dying immediately. Stranded in a dead escape pod in space until she died from oxygen deprivation, for example, or going off course and landing in the ocean, then either drowning or slowly starving to death. The terrifying possibilities were truly endless.

_Maybe I should make the odds of a safe landing only ten percent, and bump up the horrible unknowns to forty percent… You know, just so I’m prepared when it actually happens._

When she was ready, Raven did one last cursory check of the pod and its contents, checking the watch strapped to the outside of the wrist of her suit to make sure they were still on time. To pull this off successfully, she was required to meet a very specific launch window, and missing that window by even a couple minutes could spell disaster. Not for her, necessarily, but certainly for Anya and anyone else involved. The pod had enough range and fuel to get her safely to her targeted landing zone even if she missed her window by as much as an hour, but Sinclair had only programmed a blind spot in the Arks outer monitoring systems for a specific timeframe, and the natural rotation of the Ark at this time also limited the chance someone would be able to see the launch with their naked eye. If she launched too early or too late, everyone and their cousin would see an escape pod leaving Polaris. Anya would not go free for long after that, and neither would Sinclair, in all likelihood.

Once Raven was strapped in, the politician stepped over to her, standing next to her by the pod’s hatch doorway and handing over her helmet. She also held a small case in her hands, and Raven eyed it with curiosity as she reached past her to strap it down along with the long-range communications equipment taking up the rest of the free space.

“A little something for Lexa,” Anya explained, “Can you make sure she gets it? If you can’t find _her_ , then give it to Aden instead. He’s her brother. Cute kid, blond, precocious as hell… Can’t miss him.”

“Wait… Her _brother_? How is that possible?” Raven asked, but the infuriating woman didn’t answer, just smiled mysteriously.

“Fine, don’t answer. It’s not like I’m risking my life for you and your crazy plan or anything,” she grumbled, but this only made Anya’s satisfied smirk grow larger.

“What is it, then?” she asked, tapping the case with a gloved hand.

Anya seemed to hesitate before answering, then shrugged elegantly, giving one of her patented non-answers.

“I’m sure you’ll open it before you give it to her… Don’t pretend that you won’t.”

“Probably,” Raven had to agree, not able to stop the mischievous grin that formed on her own face. It was true, of course, and it was a little disconcerting how well Anya seemed to understand her after not even a full week of knowing each other.

 _Ah hell,_ she thought, troubled by the realization, _this crazy politician sure is a pain in the ass, but I’ll be damned if I’m not going to miss her just a little bit…_

What a strange thought! As if to confuse her further, Anya’s sly smile dropped from her face, her eyes frowning down at her with more than a hint of true concern.

“I won’t ask you again if you’re sure you want to do this, Raven, because I know what your answer is going to be, so just… be careful down there, okay?”

Raven nodded, swallowing back her own emotions now clawing at her throat. Good God, what was with all this sappy crap all of the sudden? The only thing stranger than a scared Anya was perhaps a sensitive, caring one…

She was a bit relieved, therefore, when Anya’s face returned to a dangerous scowl, and she added, “And when you see my assistant, tell her she’s in deep shit… Oh, and also, she’s been fired.”

Raven laughed, raising an eyebrow.

“Really, Anya? You’ve _fired_ her? Doesn’t that seem a bit, I don’t know… petty?”

“It’s not petty. It’s necessary. If you succeed in getting that radio up and running…”

“ _If?_ ” she interrupted indignantly.

“… then soon enough everyone will know that Lexa Black is on the surface, and has been since the beginning. I need to be able to distance myself from her, or no one will believe I didn’t know. So, as far as my personal records and the rest of the Ark are concerned, Ms. Black was exhibiting a pattern of erratic behavior, and for her own health, I was forced to remove her from her position as my assistant. Obviously, this must have caused her some distress, which perhaps contributed to her deciding to stow away onboard the dropship… Which I clearly knew nothing about, as I haven’t heard from her since I fired her… Plausible deniability, you understand.”

Raven shook her head, not sure if she was impressed or disgusted by the way the other woman’s mind worked. She had to hand it to her, Anya knew how to tie up loose ends.

She glanced at her watch again. It was time to put her helmet on and seal the hatch. There was roughly ten minutes to launch, and it would take at least a couple of those to run up the escape pod’s primary systems.

Anya’s datapad chimed, and she checked in briskly.

“Sinclair says we are still a go. Launch window remains the same.”

The young mechanic nodded, reaching to pull her helmet on.

“Wait,” Anya said, placing a hand on her arm to stop her, then taking the helmet from her hands. Raven looked over at her in confusion, a questioning look on her face. The other woman stepped in close, lifting the helmet over her head and holding it there, clearly intending to put it on for her.

“Fly safe, little blackbird,” she murmured, that damn, dangerous smile on her lips. Then, much to Raven’s surprise, the other woman abruptly leaned forward and kissed her right on the lips.

It was a quick, fierce kiss that was over almost as soon as it began, and was so unexpected and fast that Raven didn’t even have time to react. The moment it ended, Anya pulled her helmet down over her head, laughing as the younger woman stared back at her through the glass visor in dumbfounded silence, her eyes wide with shock.

“For luck!” she explained with a wink, stepping back and pulling the hatch door down, sealing Raven inside.

Several minutes later, timed perfectly down to the very second Sinclair had given her, the Polaris escape pod launched soundlessly into the void of space. If someone had looked out a certain small viewport window, they might have seen the thin flashes of light and fire against the blue, green and white backdrop of the planet as it tore through the outer atmosphere, but no one did, and the pod soon disappeared from sight.

High above, the Ark of humanity continued on its predictable, endless orbit, the people as of yet unaware that yet another of their own had, finally, returned home.


	13. Wreckage

 

The early afternoon sun bore down on the survivors of the dropship, now numbering ninety-six, the unusually warm day only increasing the misery they felt as they sweated and began the unpleasant task of clearing the dead bodies that now littered the interior of the camp. It had been only a short time since they had repelled their attackers, and most of those who were able bodied were now working to stack the dead bodies of the Reapers in a rough heap, while others were helping the half dozen wounded into the relative safety of the dropship and tending them as best they could.

As disgusting as moving freshly mutilated corpses was in the growing heat of the day, Lexa knew that the unsavory task was not one that could be put off. Another attack may come at any moment, and if the gate or walls were breached a second time, the bodies would only be in the way, and would make mounting a proper defense even more difficult. Plus, though they had succeeded in fighting off the monstrous men who had attacked them once so far, the combined courage of the young people around her was currently hanging together by the barest, most fragile of threads. Being bombarded by the fetid sights and smells of fresh corpses all around them was not good for morale, and she needed these Sky People to be both physically _and_ mentally ready to fight again soon if necessary.

Lexa turned the fist-sized rock she was holding over in her hands for several seconds more before letting it drop back into the fast drying mud at her feet. She’d found the stone lying next to where she had faced the last Reaper – the one who had almost succeeded in killing her because she had been surprised in a critical moment. She was almost certain that the large bruise slowly forming between her shoulder blades had been caused by that very rock being thrown at her vulnerable back. She was _also_ almost certain she knew exactly who had thrown it.

As the teens continued to reluctantly carry out her gruesome instructions, Lexa abandoned her suspicious thoughts for now and turned back to the man she knew to be Lincoln, regarding him quietly for several long moments. Wells, Finn and Aden stood beside her in a rough semicircle, also watching the stranger intently, though so far they had all waited for her to speak to him first. Lincoln gazed back at them, his bare hands clenched and tense at his sides, blood from the fight splattered in lurid patterns across his chest and arms. He had sheathed his swords and removed his facemask as soon as the fighting ceased, and she was glad he had done so. Obviously he was making an effort to appear like less of a threat to them, but a warrior as physically powerful and skilled as he was looked menacing even when unarmed and without his mask. Even were he to stand before them completely naked and helpless, there would still be no denying that this was a very dangerous man.

Deciding finally to break the silence before either Wells or Finn lost patience first, Lexa took a step towards him and spoke to him in a cautious, neutral tone, her own sword sheathed and posture purposefully relaxed and confident, hands clasped loosely behind her back. This may be Lincoln, but that did not necessarily mean he was the exact same man she had known. She wanted to trust him – he was a member of her birth clan, after all, and Clarke’s friend – but Lexa well knew that she couldn’t take anything for granted in this strange world. She would need to tread very carefully in dealing with him, especially considering the complicated emotions his mere presence created within her.

“Thank you for warning us,” she began, wanting to start with a measure of sincerity, “You saved a great many lives today by coming here, and by choosing to fight with us… We owe you a great debt.”

She saw him relax just the barest amount at her words, which had been her intention. Everything she said to him in the next few minutes would be critical, she knew, as Lincoln could very well be the key to everything she hoped to accomplish. He was obviously _Trikru_ , and though Octavia Blake was not among the Sky People in this reality, he clearly still sympathized with their plight, just as he had in her and Aden’s time. If she could convince him now to continue to be sympathetic, it was possible he might be willing to speak to the current leaders of _Trikru_ on their behalf. He had acted as a go-between for Clarke and Anya before, she knew. Perhaps he could do the same for her. Lincoln had always tried to straddle the divide between _Skaikru_ and the rest of the Clans, fiercely refusing to pick a side even when it meant defying her orders. It was for that very reason that she had been forced to banish him all those months ago. Now, his reluctance to choose sides and his ability to see both perspectives were the very traits she hoped might help her build a more peaceful world than the last.

Lincoln hadn’t responded to her words, continuing to stare at her without expression, his body still coiled and ready as though he might run at any moment.

“I am Lexa Black… This is my brother, Aden, and this is Wells Jaha,” she told him, introducing herself and gesturing to the two others beside her. It had taken all of her concentration not to automatically introduce herself as _‘Leksa kom Trikru’_. She could hardly imagine what his reaction to _that_ declaration would have been.

“I believe Finn already introduced himself in the forest when we first met,” she added, nodding her head towards him. Lincoln’s eyes flickered from one to the other as she pointed each of them out, still giving nothing away.

“What is your name?” she asked, her eyes narrowing when he failed to answer her after several long, awkward seconds.

_We don’t have time for this… He already crossed a line by warning us, and he willingly fought on our side just minutes ago. Why is he hesitating now?_

“I know you can understand me… It’s alright to speak freely here, you have my word that no harm will come to you from anyone in this camp,” she said after a moment, some of the impatience she was feeling leaking into her voice despite her best efforts.

The Commander of the Twelve Clans was not accustom to having her questions go unanswered. As Lexa Black in this reality, however, she was beginning to accept the fact that her name did not engender the immediate fear, respect, and deference that her title had in her previous life. She was not recognized as the physical reincarnation of an eternal spirit of great power, nor was she the fearsome leader of a massive coalition... No, as far as anyone here knew, she was merely a young woman who had fallen from the sky, and who currently led a ragtag group of teenagers struggling to survive. If she could not convince even Lincoln that they were worthy allies, however, then there was no chance she would be able to convince the rest of _Trikru_. Without the medical supplies and expertise of the Ark, it was also doubtful that she could recreate Clarke’s gamble of turning a Reaper back into a man. Lexa would need to find some other way to bring the Clans into peaceful negotiations with _Skaikru_.

Lexa released a slow breath and forced herself to relax, breaking her fierce eye contact with the stubborn man. She was getting too far ahead of herself, she knew. There wouldn’t be _any_ negotiating of any sort as long as Lincoln refused to talk. She needed to change tactics, to put him more at ease. The Woods Clan had some very specific ideas about guest rights and what it meant to have safe passage in another’s home… Perhaps some basic hospitality was in order.

“Come, let’s go somewhere out of the sun where we can talk more comfortably,” she said, gesturing towards the shade of the brightly colored tents, forcing a more welcoming expression on her face. She was anxious for answers and she ached to pin him down and ask him every question she could think of, but she knew she wouldn’t get the answers she wanted if Lincoln didn’t first feel safe enough to talk.

“Aden, go fetch our guest a drink of water, please,” she ordered as she strode away, not waiting to see if Lincoln would follow her or if the boy would do as she said. She walked confidently towards the nearest tent, drawing it open and checking to see if anyone was inside. Three scared, pale faces stared back at her, two girls and one boy, and she glared at them harshly. They’d been hiding in here since the attack, no doubt.

“Get out,” she ordered, her voice a dangerous growl. The three scrambled to their feet, hustling past her to get outside, careful not to touch her as they slid by. Once they had left she entered the now empty tent, feeling immediate relief to be out of the hot sun, and the others soon joined her inside. They formed a rough circle at first, Lincoln remaining closest to the exit, his eyes scanning his surroundings warily. Wells looked apprehensive and moved to stand closer to Lexa – though whether it was to show a more unified front, or because he was frightened of what the other man might do, she wasn’t sure – while Finn remained standing nearer the warrior, staring at him with fascination. When Aden returned with the water moments later, he went straight to Lincoln and offered the canteen to him with a bright smile, clearly not intimidated by him in the least. The man’s lips twitched slightly, almost smiling in return, and he took the water from the boy, taking a long drink before handing it back.

“Thank you, Aden,” Lexa said as the boy moved back to her side. Now framed with Wells on her right and the _Natblida_ on her left, Lexa leveled her intense, focused green eyes back on the Lincoln.

“Now, why don’t you tell us your name?” she asked.

“Lincoln,” he admitted finally, grunting the word just barely loud enough to be heard. She waited for a beat, not surprised when he didn’t give his clan affiliation or say more.

“Lincoln…” she repeated, as though hearing it for the first time. This felt extraordinarily strange, pretending not to know him. It was much worse than when she had met Finn and Murphy in this reality. She had hardly known those two, other than the fact that they had each been her prisoner for a short time. With Lincoln it felt like the two of them were merely playing a game, and at any moment he would recognize her for who she truly was.

“How did they find our camp?” she asked, though she suspected she already knew the answer.

“Your hunting party,” he said, confirming her suspicions, “They wandered too far west chasing that wounded deer. Reapers are savages, but they can also be smart... when they need to be. They followed them back to you.”

“Reapers?” Finn asked, “Is that what those people are called?”

“Not people,” Lincoln growled, shooting a severe glance over at the handsome boy, “They’ve been changed, driven insane… They eat the flesh of the dead.”

A chill went through the Sky People at his grim pronouncement, both Finn and Wells looking horrified.

“Why? What happened to them?” Wells asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” the other man replied, shaking his head.

“No, it doesn’t matter,” Lexa agreed, looking to steer the conversation once more. Of course, _she_ knew how the Reapers were made, but there were more pressing things that needed to be discussed first.

“What matters is whether or not they will come back… We killed a great many of them today in this attack. Was it enough to keep them from trying again?”

Lincoln looked back at her, his face grave.

“They will return eventually, and in greater numbers than before… You aren’t safe here this close to the Mountain. There are too many of you, and they know you are here now. You need to leave as soon as possible or you will all be taken.”

“Taken?! What do you mean, taken? I thought they just wanted to kill us,” Finn said, confusion in his eyes, though he was clearly remembering his own captivity by Reapers several days before.

Lincoln just shook his head impatiently, perhaps becoming just a bit annoyed by their apparent ignorance.

“There are almost a hundred people in this camp, Lincoln, and we have built sturdy walls… Are you saying that this won’t be enough? Are there truly so many Reapers that they could take this entire camp even if we are prepared and ready for an attack?” she asked, a note of disbelief in her voice.

She knew that things were a bit different in this reality, but how was it possible that there were so many Reapers, and that they were so well organized? How were they able to be this aggressive so far from the Mountain? When they had first seen Lincoln in the woods that second night, he had warned them in _Trigedasleng_ that they needed to leave, that their camp wasn’t safe. She had assumed he meant it was because they were trespassing on _Trigeda_ lands, but now she was beginning to suspect that the reason was both more obvious and much more sinister.

“They have large numbers, and they are desperate... Even most of my own people no longer live this close to their lands anymore.”

“Your people?” she asked, latching onto his words immediately. This was _exactly_ where she wanted the conversation to go. Lincoln looked suddenly wary at her interest.

“If your people are also enemies of the Reapers, then maybe we can help each other…” she began, but her words were interrupted by shouting from outside. All of them startled and turned towards the tent entrance just as Monty Green’s head popped though it, his eyes wide and excited.

“Guys, you need to get out here and see this! You won’t believe it!”

Lexa eased her hand away from her half-drawn sword and saw Lincoln do the same. With the way Monty was acting, she very much doubted they were coming under attack again.

“Ah hell, what is it now?” Wells moaned as they all followed the young Farm Stationer outside.

“What is it, Monty?” Lexa demanded, then looked upwards when she saw his hand extend and point towards the sky above. Behind her, she heard Finn gasp in surprise and a swift inhalation of breath from Lincoln when they both spotted it a moment later.

“Something’s coming down from the Ark!” Monty explained cheerfully, almost grinning in his amazement. All around them, each and every one of the Sky People had dropped what they were doing and were staring upwards, mouths open and eyes wide. A swell of conversation and excited shouting rose throughout the camp, dozens more people stumbling out from their tents and the dropship to see what the sudden commotion was about.

“What is it, though? It looks too small to be a dropship,” Finn said, and Wells echoed his agreement. Lexa stared at the brightly glowing dot in the sky as it grew closer and closer, a streak of clouds and smoke building behind it, trailing though the blue expanse like the lazy tail of a white cat.

“No, it’s definitely not a dropship… Maybe a smaller ship of some kind?” Monty added, not sounding entirely sure.

“Whatever it is, it’s going to land within just a few miles of us,” she interrupted, her mind already working over this new problem. As if they didn’t already have enough to deal with today, now there was this. Of course, if it was something, or someone, from the Ark, then this could be good news for them. It could be carrying much needed supplies, for instance… It could also be carrying more people.

_… Clarke might be on that ship…_

Lexa aggressively dismissed the distracting thought, annoyed by her own foolish hopes even as she wasn’t able to keep herself from having them. She shaded her eyes, following the spiraling descent of the strange craft. A parachute had opened, slowing its fall, and it was now drifting gently towards the earth. She tried to judge just how far away and in what direction it would land, her chest tightening when she realized where it was headed.

“I knew the Ark wouldn’t just abandon us,” Wells was saying confidently, his voice rising with a renewed sense of hope. He said the Ark, but undoubtedly he was thinking of his father, the Chancellor. “They must have found a way to send supplies down!”

“Yeah, that or they decided to maroon a few more poor bastards down here with us,” a loud voice added from several feet away, and though she couldn’t see who it was, she had no difficulty recognizing Murphy’s snide tone. She felt a flash of anger when she heard him, the pain in her back seeming to grow, reminding her again of the stone that had been thrown at her.

She would need to deal with _him_ later. There just wasn’t time for it right now.

The small craft and it’s large, billowing parachute disappeared behind a gently rolling hill in the distance, and Lexa turned back to the others as soon as it was out of sight.

“It’s too far west,” she growled, anger and frustration in her voice.

“Oh… crap,” Finn sighed, everyone understanding immediately the importance of what she had just said.

Lincoln was nodding in agreement, his expression serious and brow slightly furrowed. She took a step closer to him, voice urgent and eyes intent on his.

“Did you see where it landed?” she asked, “Could you take us there and back in time?”

He didn’t need to ask her what she meant. Surely everyone in a ten mile radius had seen that object fall from the sky. Any Reapers that were still in the area had likely seen it as well. If they did make an effort to recover whatever had come down from the Ark, then doubtless the Reapers would be all too happy to ambush them when they were out in the open and away from the safety of their walls. Lexa felt she knew these forests passably well, but she was not as intimately familiar with them as Lincoln was. If they had any hope of recovering whatever had come down from the Ark quickly enough to avoid being attacked by Reapers, they would need his help.

Lincoln still hadn’t responded to her questions and she could see the conflict in him, the uncertainty. He had already put himself at great risk helping them once today.

“There may be people onboard,” she explained, hoping the knowledge that lives were at stake might persuade him to help. “If the Reapers get to them first, they will all be killed… Or taken.”

All eyes were on Lincoln now, a small crowd gathering around them as the young people waited to see what Lexa’s plan was for this new development. After seeing her in action during the battle, the mood of the camp had shifted considerably in her favor. Most of the young survivors now felt confident that she knew what she was doing, and they looked to her with greater respect and trust than ever before. She had proven herself their leader in the blood and chaos of combat, and an even stronger sense of unity and purpose now held the camp together with Lexa at its head.

“I can take you, but we need to hurry,” he finally agreed, and sighs of relief went through the crowd.

“Thank you,” Lexa said solemnly, appreciate just how difficult of a situation she was placing him in.

“Jones, Monroe, Miller!” she shouted, and the three readily stepped forward, their faces anxious but determined. They had each done well during what she had seen of the fight, and she wanted them with her. Atom had been wounded badly in the thigh during the battle, and so he unfortunately wouldn’t be able to join them. Lexa thought quickly, trying to decide how many others to take. There might be injured people at the landing sight, or a large amount of supplies to be carried. They needed to move quickly and stealthily, so she didn’t want to take too many, but she still needed enough people to help with whatever they found.

“You, Martinez,” she said, pointing to a young man in the crowd who was watching her with an eager expression, “You fought well earlier… You’re coming with us.”

Martinez nodded excitedly and moved to join her small group, his hands clutching a sword he had no doubt taken from one of the bodies of the Reapers.

She turned to another boy who towered above the others, his hair black and cut short, dark eyes brooding in a handsome face. John Mbege was not someone she completely trusted just yet. He had shown himself early on to be Murphy’s friend, and had been one of the first to take off his medical wristband. She needed large, powerful fighters, however, and she had seen John take down a Reaper on his own in the earlier fight. Plus, she had noticed that he seemed to be distancing himself from Murphy over the past few days, and he had yet to defy any of her orders or cause trouble. He was a violent man, and that could be a valuable trait in a person if put to proper use.

“John, I know you like to fight,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him challengingly, “What do you say?”

“I say you’re all crazy…” he muttered, not looking at her.

There was some nervous laughter at this, then a voice in the back shouted just loud enough to be heard by everyone.

“What’s the matter, John? You frightened?”

John spun and glared towards whoever had spoken, the golden brown skin on his face growing darker as he flushed slightly.

“You’re all crazy, but so am I… I’m not scared of some stupid forest. Count me in.”

Lexa’s lips twitched in an effort to keep from smiling. These children might not be true warriors yet, but that didn’t mean they lacked a warrior’s pride.

“Good, grab your weapons and meet me by the gate,” she ordered the hastily formed group, stopping Finn with a hand on his arm when he moved to go with them.

“No, Finn… You aren’t coming. Neither are you, Aden,” she said, her words met with two answering scowls.

“But, Lexa! I can help…”

“I know you can,” she interrupted the boy, “But I need you here more. Wells will need your help if the Reapers attack the camp while we’re gone.”

Aden was too small to be of much use at the landing site, and she wanted him here at the camp in her place while she was gone. Plus, though he was proving himself capable in battle and had so far done very well for a boy his age and size, she knew he would not be able to keep up with the older teens running through the woods. She didn’t want to hurt his pride by telling him that, however.

“Wells, you’re in charge while I’m gone, but you listen to what Aden says,” she told him, meeting his eyes so that he would know she was serious. “I know he’s young, but he’s smarter and better trained than most of the people in this camp combined… You listen to him, understand?”

Wells nodded thoughtfully, glancing over at the glowering boy who was clearly still not pleased at being left behind. Lexa turned back to Finn.

“I’m going with you,” Finn said, an obstinate expression on his face.

“No, you’re not,” she snarled, impatient to get going and not wanting to deal with his stubbornness. Time was wasting. Every second she spent here in camp made the recovery mission more dangerous.

“This is silly, Lexa… I can help!” he said, echoing Aden’s earlier words.

“Really? Are you bringing a weapon, then?” she asked, her voice as cold and unforgiving as iron.

Didn’t he understand? This was war… She didn’t have time for his foolishness, and she couldn’t bring someone along that refused to fight, and who she didn’t trust to follow her orders without argument. She didn’t dislike Finn, in fact he was starting to grow on her a little, but she didn’t want him along on this mission. He was too reckless, too unpredictable.

“We don’t have time for this… You’re staying here Finn. That’s final.”

He glared back at her, shaking his head.

“You can’t stop me from coming,” he argued.

“Yes, I can.”

Finn took a step towards the gate, trying to move past her. The many eyes of the crowd felt heavy on her as Lexa made a quick decision. The young Sky People were united behind her right now, but she couldn’t afford to let people defy her commands in public like this. Mouth twisting downwards in distaste at what he was forcing her to do, Lexa ducked low and swept her leg out, catching Finn’s legs and bringing him down to the ground. He let out a startled shout as he fell and quickly scrambled back to his knees, looking up at her with a shocked, betrayed expression.

Lexa didn’t let it stop her from stepping forward and kneeing him directly in the face, the blow connecting with his forehead with a solid thwacking sound. The young man immediately reeled backwards in the dirt and grass, eyes rolling back in his skull, groaning as he lay there. He wasn’t unconscious, she knew, merely stunned. She hadn’t wanted to hit him hard enough to truly harm him, just enough to make a point.

“Get him in the dropship and tie him down. No one is to leave the camp while we are gone… Is that clear?” she ordered coldly, watching as the ring of surrounding faces all nodded, several people quickly moving forward to collect Finn’s limp body from the ground. She searched the crowd quickly to see if anyone seemed upset over her rough treatment of one of their own, but no one appeared overly sympathetic to his plight.

Lincoln watched all of his unfold with impassive eyes. She lifted her chin to him, then tilted her head towards the closed gate of the camp.

“Let’s get going, we’re running out of time.”

They turned to leave, but a new voice called out, making them both pause a moment more.

“Wait! I need to come with!”

It was Monty. She cocked her head at him, surprised by the confidence of his assertion, especially considering how she had just handled the last person who had volunteered himself to come along. He swallowed and looked nervous under her gaze, but he didn’t back down.

“The ship might have communications equipment I can use to fix the radio… No one else will know what to look for, what we need, but I do.”

It was true… Lexa had forgotten about the radio. She wasn’t used to thinking about technology, or how it could be used to help them. Monty had so far failed to find a way to use the medical wrist bands to communicate with the Ark, but he was still the best qualified one among them to salvage parts from whatever they found.

“Very well, grab a weapon… We’re leaving right now.”

Several short minutes later, the heavy wooden gate of the dropship camp groaned as it was forced open just wide enough to allow the eight members of the hastily formed rescue party to slip out into the forest. As soon as they were through, the gate slammed shut behind them, the heavy logs falling into place, locking them outside.

A few miles distant, the suited figure within the escape pod hung limp against her restraints, the small pod smoking and clicking as its metal cooled. Raven’s dark eyelashes fluttered once as though she might wake, the small cut on her forehead dripping blood slowly down her face, but she did not stir. Around her, the dark forest shadows seemed to creep closer.

Against all odds, the brave young mechanic had succeeded in landing safely and almost directly on target. Wounded and unconscious, she had no idea that the true danger to her life was only growing greater with every second.

 

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“We’re close,” Lincoln whispered, crouching low in the lush green foliage beside her, pointing to the southwest with his drawn sword. They were all now holding their bare weapons ready in their fists, having slowed from their initial headlong rush towards the crash. It was cooler in the shade of the forest, but sweat still dripped from all of their faces from the combined fear and exertion of the last hour. Now that they were nearing the landing site, the chance of an ambush was steadily increasing. If Reapers had beaten then here, then they would no doubt be lying in wait.

“How far?” she whispered back, looking in the direction he indicated.

“Just over that hill, I think. We should be able to see it on the other side. Do you see those broken treetops? That must be where it came down.”

Lexa turned to the others, thinking fast.

“Miller, Jones, you go in front with Lincoln. Monroe, John, Martinez, Monty… you stay with me. We will hang back a ways just in case it’s a trap.”

She trusted Miller and Jones the most, and they were both good fighters. They would be best able to back up Lincoln while scouting the site and would stay calm if things went poorly. Hopefully the five of them would be able to get there in time to defeat any would be ambushers with a counter ambush of their own.

“I’ll whistle twice if the area is clear,” Lincoln told her, then not wasting a moment more, the three of them slipped forward, disappearing over the small hill. After waiting several moments, Lexa and the others followed, trying to be as quiet as possible. The gaping hole of shattered branches and tree limbs became more obvious the closer they got, and the sun glinted off of the small craft that now lay nestled in the underbrush, its faded white paint charred and burned from its fiery descent.

Behind it, its large parachute billowed and flapped when a slight breeze caught it, partially tangled in the brush. Lexa frowned, squinting her eyes in an attempt to see the distant object more clearly through the trees. Something about it looked familiar, as though it was something she had seen many times before… She tested her memories, waiting for a new recollection from the Ark to rise within her, perhaps triggered by the sight of the small craft, but it never came. Was it something she had seen before in her own life, then? A rising sense of unease grew within her at the thought, though she wasn’t sure why.

Two sharp whistles reached them on the air several minutes later, and the five of them hurried to join the others at the landing site.

“It’s an escape pod!” Monty said, clearly excited by the discovery.

“Hey, there’s someone inside!” Monroe called. She was standing in front of the pod, having used her sleeve to wipe clear a small section of the dirty glass so that she could peer inwards.

“John, Martinez, keep watch,” Lexa ordered, “Reapers might still be on their way.”

When the two boys nodded at her command and took up their posts, Lexa turned and strode over to where the others were gathered at the side of the pod.

“The door’s fused shut… Ouch! Watch out, it’s still a little hot.”

Monty pulled back his hand, rubbing his hot fingers against his pant leg.

“Let’s force it open… Monroe, give me your sword,” Jones suggested.

“Hey, why do we need to use my sword?” the girl grumbled, annoyed.

Their bickering ceased when Lexa joined them and they all stepped aside to make room for her. Their movement allowed her to finally see the escape pod’s side door, and what she saw made her freeze in surprise and alarm.

_P…O…L……..I…S…_

“No…” she gasped, not able to stop the surprised denial from escaping her.

“What is it? Do you recognize it?” Monty asked, curiosity and excitement in his voice.

She did… Of course she did! But what was it doing here? It didn’t make any sense… This was a sacred object. It was the blessed vessel of the first Commander, from which she had descended from the heavens to save humanity from the Entity. It was a holy relic greatly treasured by her people… Only Nightbloods, the Flamekeeper, and ordained members of the Order of the Blood were allowed to look upon it. Anyone else doing so was blasphemy of the highest order.

_How is this possible?!_

Lexa felt her entire world shifting, her understanding of herself, the sacred legacy of the Commander whose spirit she carried, and all she had been taught as a young _Natblida_ shifting and turning within her. Suddenly, a new memory filled her mind, and this time it _was_ from the Ark. Lexa Black stood in a brightly lit room, the soft glow of computer terminals surrounding her. Before her rested the escape pod, un-burnt and undamaged, a slight layer of dust covering it where it stood in its’ unused launch bay. From where she stood in the memory, Lexa could clearly make out the lettering that decorated the side of the pod, the bold letters shattering everything she had thought she knew before.

_P O L A R I S_

“Yes, I recognize it,” she said finally, her voice sounding strangely numb and distant even to her own ears, “It’s an escape pod from Polaris station… It was never used. I’m amazed it still worked.”

“They’re a lucky bastard, whoever is inside!” Jones exclaimed irreverently, “It’s got to be at least a hundred years old… Escape pods were supposed to be disposable. They weren’t designed to last that long.”

After several minutes of combined effort – during which Lexa struggled to calm herself and not think about the implications of what she had just discovered – they managed to wrench the door open. A cloud of smoke billowed out of the pod once it opened, and they all coughed, waving their arms in a useless attempt to clear the air. A dark form appeared within the pod, the suited figure still strapped to their seat, unmoving. Whoever it was in there was wearing a full spacesuit with an attached oxygen tank, and it looked to be still intact, which had undoubtedly been what saved them from suffocating to death. A small electrical fire glowed in the panels to one side, the source of the noxious smoke and growing heat. Monty swore, pushing the others aside so that he could reach beneath the seat, pulling free a small fire extinguisher after a moment of searching. He checked the label quickly before using it to put out the tiny green and blue flames. While he did that, Monroe slide over to the person strapped in the pod, her nimble fingers working to remove their helmet. Lexa stepped back and let the Sky People work, knowing that their expertise in this situation far outstripped her own. Lincoln stood beside her, his sharp eyes keeping careful watch on the surrounding trees.

“Huh… the crazy bastard is a girl,” Jones grunted in consternation, “And she’s pretty.”

“Shut up, Jones,” Monroe muttered, turning the girl’s head carefully towards them so that she could check the wound on her forehead.

“I know her! It’s Raven Reyes… she works for engineering,” Monty said, causing Lexa’s head to snap back to the pod, eyes searching out the girls’ face.

_Raven…_

Today was just one surprise right after another. It had been several months since she had last seen the fiery young woman, but she couldn’t possibly forget her face.

_Yet another Sky Person I had tortured and almost killed… At least this universe is being predictable._

First Finn, then Murphy, now even Raven was here. The list of Sky People she had known personally and was yet to meet was growing shorter by the day, and yet, still no sign of Clarke. Truly the spirits had a cruel sense of humor.

The young woman regained consciousness the moment they started to move her from the pod. Her large, chocolate colored eyes blinked and gained focus, suited limbs flailing as she struggled to find her balance and shrug free of their supporting arms. She looked around her in confusion at the strange faces that circled her.

“Raven, it’s me, Monty… Are you alright?” he asked, holding out a steadying hand.

“Monty?” she croaked, then lifted a gloved hand to her forehead, “Ouch.”

“You hit your head.”

“Well… duh,” she groaned sarcastically, looking at the blood on her fingers, and Jones laughed at her snarky reply. Lexa remembered her as being pretty fierce and undaunted by life in general, and it seemed her earlier impression had been a correct one.

Raven looked over her shoulder at the still smoldering pod, a smile growing on her face, lighting up her features with excited pride.

“Holy shit… I survived!?” she said, laughing in disbelief. She turned in a slow circle, tilting her bare face up into the sun, closing her eyes for a second, a blissful expression on her face.

“This is amazing… I can’t believe I’m actually on the ground right now!”

The other Sky People all shared small smiles, amused by her excitement and awe at being on the ground. They all remembered just how amazed and joyful they had felt immediately after their own landing… Before people started trying to murder them, of course. Raven dropped her head and opened her eyes, brow furrowing.

“Where’s Finn?” she asked.

“He’s back at the dropship,” Lexa answered her, stepping forward, “Which is where we need to be… We need to hurry, there isn’t much time.”

“Slow down… Who the hell are _you_?”

“I’m Lexa Black.”

“Wait, _Lexa_? As in, Anya’s assistant, Lexa?” Raven asked, her tone suddenly brightening and much friendlier.

Lexa startled at her mention of Anya’s name. In all the excitement of the past few days, she had almost forgotten that her mentor still lived on the Ark in this reality.

“You know Anya?” she asked.

“Hell yes… She’s the crazy person that came up with this brilliant plan. She sent me down here. The Ark is dying, running out of oxygen… They’re going to kill hundreds of people if we don’t get this radio working and tell them the ground is safe.”

If she had expected them to act surprised over her news about what was happening to the Ark, she was sorely disappointed.

“You brought a radio?” Monty asked, not waiting for her to respond before climbing into the pod in search of it. A palpable sense of rising anticipation filled the group now, true hope growing within them for the first time since they had landed. Raven started shrugging out of her bulky space suit, Monroe and Miller helping her with the clasps she couldn’t reach.

“Yeah, everything we need is right there. We just need to get it to the dropship and I can install it. Shouldn’t take more than a couple hours to get it working.”

“We’ve been here too long,” Lincoln growled from behind them, urgency in his voice, “We need to get moving.”

Raven startled, noticing the strangely dressed warrior standing in the shadows for the first time.

“Who the hell is that!?”

“Raven, we don’t have much time, it isn’t safe here,” Lexa interrupted, knowing that Lincoln was correct. “What do we need to make the radio work? We can carry it back to the dropship, but we need to leave… Now.”

Raven pulled her shocked gaze away from the _Trikru_ warrior, shaking her head as though to clear her thoughts.

“Uhh, it’s all in those crates there… There are only three of them, but one of them is pretty heavy. It will take two people to carry it.”

“That’s fine, there are enough of us.”

Lexa called for John and Martinez, and the two boys joined them, the group quickly dividing up the crates among the strongest of them. Raven, now free of her spacesuit, pulled a small pack she pulled from the pod over her shoulders, holding another small metal case in her hands.

“This one is actually for you,” she told Lexa, giving her a friendly smile.

Lexa didn’t smile back. It felt strange for the other girl to be smiling at her at all… The last time Lexa had seen her face to face, she had just finished torturing her after having accused her of her own attempted assassination. Of course, she had learned that Raven wasn’t the one who had tried to kill her, but if looks _could_ actually kill a person, then Raven would have ended her life many times over after Finn’s execution.

They left shortly later, hurrying through the forest in a race against time, now more focused on speed then on silence. They had only gone a few minutes when they heard a faint, angry howling erupt behind them from the direction of the landing site. The sound caused them all to freeze for a moment, eyes wide on each other.

The Reapers had found the empty escape pod.

“What the hell is _that_? What’s going on?” Raven panted, exhaustion in her voice.

 She looked to be in good physical shape, but she had large circles under her eyes and was clearly tired and sore from her difficult landing, and she was struggling to keep up with them. Her space born body was not yet as used to the heat, humidity, and natural gravity of the planet’s surface as they were. She was also clearly confused by everything that was going on.

“There’s no time to explain,” Monty told her, “We’re not the only ones down here, and they’ll kill us if they catch us!”

Raven’s eyes flickered over to Lincoln, mouth opening to ask another question.

“Let’s go, hurry!” Lexa hissed before she could, getting the group moving again. There would be time enough for explanations once they were safely back at the dropship.

No longer bothering trying to be quiet, the group ran through the forest, their breaths heavy as they hurtled across the rugged terrain, stopping only briefly once or twice to change over who was carrying the crates. The awkward weight of the heaviest crate slowed them the most. It needed to be carried by two people, which made running difficult, but in the end it took them much less time to return to camp then it had to find the escape pod. Any time they grew tired and slowed, a fresh wave of maddened howls from the pursuing Reapers in the distance was enough to spur them on once more.

When the rough walls of the dropship camp rose into view through the trees, a collective moan of relief travelled through the weary party. Lexa stumbled to a stop beside Lincoln, waving the others onwards.

“Go, we’re right behind you,” she said, and they turned their tired bodies back towards the camp without argument, leaving the two of them behind.

“Thank you, Lincoln, for helping us.”

“It was the right thing to do,” he told her, watching her face carefully.

Lexa slowed her ragged breathing, trying to quickly gather her scattered thoughts. She would not be able to force Lincoln back into the camp for further talks, she knew. Whatever entreaties she wanted to make to him, she would have to make them now.

“Your people… We don’t need to be enemies. Clearly the Reapers are a threat to both of us. We can help each other, fight them together. Will you go to your people and tell them this?” she asked, wishing she had more time to ease into this conversation. There was never enough time today… It felt as though the whole wretched day had consisted of rushing from one disaster to the next, and it wasn’t even over yet.

“My people… _Trikru_ , they don’t trust outsiders easily. I can tell them about you, but I don’t know if they will listen.”

“Can you set up a meeting, then? Let me talk to the leader of _Trikru_ ,” she told him, the _Trigedasleng_ word rolling easily off her tongue, “If _you_ can’t convince them that we would be better off as allies, then maybe I can.”

“It’s not that simple,” Lincoln growled, shaking his head.

“Peace is _never_ simple, Lincoln, but we still have to try,” she argued, letting him hear the passion in her voice. It was true, war was always the easier solution, the more appealing path for a people who lived with blood and violence every day. It was not the kind of future she wanted to see for this world, however, and she knew Lincoln felt the same.

They stared at each other for a long, tense moment, both measuring the other with their eyes.

“I’ll talk to the elders and the war chief and try to set up a meeting… If I’m not back in a few days, for your own people’s sake, Lexa, I suggest you pack your things and try to go as far from here as possible. The south would be best at first, then east until you reach the sea.”

Lexa nodded in satisfaction, reaching out to clasp his arm automatically in farewell. He reached out as well, gripping her arm in return, and if he was surprised by her using a gesture that was common among his own people, then he did not show it. Of course, he had no way of knowing that the Sky People did not shake hands this way.

“Thank you, Lincoln,” she said, tightening her grip on his arm.

The _Trikru_ man nodded once, holding her gaze steadily, then they both released their clasped arms. He turned from her and disappeared into the forest, and all her hopes for future peace went along with him, a shared dream that now lived within both of their hearts.

She jogged back to the camp, a tentative sense of hope now filling her despite the precarious circumstance. Perhaps, just perhaps, things would be different this time… Better.

The Commander slipped through the gate of the dropship camp, rejoining her people. The young Arkers quickly surrounded her, their faces turned to her with trusting gazes, a sense of relief rushing through the camp at having their fearsome leader back amongst them once more. One person among them did _not_ look relieved however. From his place in the shadows of a nearby tent, John Murphy scowled in annoyance and disgust, then turned and slipped away. Lexa’s knowing green eyes followed him from across the camp, their gaze as clear and focused as that of a stalking forest cat.

Murphy shivered, feeling her eyes upon him, and he was not able to help the slow, cold fear that trickled down his spine.

 

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Light, cheerful birdsong whistled on the slight breeze, the rising wind a pleasant relief from the unusually warm spring day. The _Azgeda_ warriors had stripped out of their heavy gray furs, and many now stood in the shallow stream nearby, cooling their heated faces with the ice cold water and drinking their fill. They were not accustom to this much heat so early in the year, and the weather had gotten steadily warmer once they crossed over the last mountain pass and left the lands of the Ice Nation behind them. Clarke wiped sweat from her own brow, staring off into the distance as she listened to the cheerful chatter of the _Skaibona_ warriors as they settled in to make camp.

“You _do_ know it’s not going to just… _reappear_ if you keep staring, Clarke, right?” Octavia’s low voice mocked, distracting her from her thoughts, a note of playful amusement in the other girl’s words.

She pulled her gaze away from the sky, looking back at her with a small, embarrassed smile.

“What do you think it was, exactly?” she asked, her mind still consumed with thoughts about the strange object they had seen falling from the sky several hours earlier.

Ever since they had left the Ice Nation stronghold and she had seen a similar object fall in the far distance that first day, Clarke had unconsciously kept a part of her always looking upwards towards the blue horizon. This time, when she saw another streak of flame and smoke splitting the skies above, this time much closer and easier to see, she’d immediately called out to the others, wanting to make sure that they also saw it and she wasn’t in fact hallucinating. In all those months spent alone in the Ice Queen’s dungeons, it wouldn’t be the first time Clarke had experience strange visions and hallucinations while awake.

“Who knows?” Octavia shrugged, not seeming overly interested or concerned, “It fell near the Mountain… Those lands are cursed for a reason, Clarke. People say strange things have always happened there.”

“That wasn’t _from_ the Mountain,” she argued, shaking her head. Whatever it was that had fallen, she doubted very much that the mysterious Mountain Men had anything to do with it.

“Well, we could always sneak away and go check it out,” the other girl suggested, a note of mischievousness in her voice.

 Clarke eyed her warily, not entirely sure that she was joking. Octavia, she was realizing, had an almost desperate thirst for adventure. She seemed ready and willing to hurl herself into any dangerous circumstance, and it was a wonder that she hadn’t yet done something truly reckless on this trip. So far, the girl had contented herself with rebelling in small ways, first by flirting with some of the younger and more handsome of the men among the warriors, then by flaunting her dalliance with one of them in plain sight of her brother. Bellamy, as heavy-handed as he always tended to be with her, had ordered her to stay away from the men on the second day of the trip.  Octavia had immediately balked at his desire to control her, and she had since taken every opportunity to prove her independence and freedom from him, often to the annoyance and aggravation of everyone else around her.

Clarke thought it was all ridiculous. Bellamy needed to leave his sister alone and let her live her own life, but she knew that wasn’t something he was capable of doing. His overwhelming desire to do anything required to protect her was the only reason they were on this dangerous mission in the first place.

As badly as she wanted to know what it was that had come down from the sky, Clarke knew it was too risky to go searching for it. She shook her head.

“We’re already too close to the Mountain as it is, Octavia… Getting any closer would be foolish.”

“What’s the matter, traitor, are you children afraid of Reapers and scary Mountain Men? Did your mother tell you too many frightening stories when she tucked you in at night? Or was it your dead _father_ that made you so weak?”

The harsh, cold voice sneered at them from somewhere close behind, and they both turned, Clarke’s jaw clenching at the other woman’s intentionally provocative words.

“Echo, such a pleasure to see you, as always,” she said by way of greeting, frowning at the woman with distaste. Echo was the only person among them who was not of Sky Born descent, and it was generally understood that she had been sent along as Queen Nia’s eyes and ears. She was a fierce warrior and very intelligent, but her blind loyalty to the Ice Queen and single-minded hatred of anyone who wasn’t _Azgeda_ made her twice dangerous in Clarke’s eyes. Whatever Nia’s plans for the _Skaibona_ were, Clarke suspected that Echo knew something of them, and perhaps even had a significant role to play.

Octavia had bristled beside her at the other woman’s insults, her brown eyes flashing with anger.

“Well, if it isn’t the Ice Queen’s little pet snake… Why don’t you slither back into whatever cold, slimy hole you came out of… Oh wait, your _mother_ is dead too, isn’t she? How sad.”

Clarke barely held back an incredulous laugh at Octavia’s snarled insults, looking sideways at her with wide-eyed surprise, her lips pressed into a tight line to keep in the laughter. She wanted to feel embarrassed by the girl’s words, but it was hard to when Echo had deserved them so badly. She’d had the gall to call them both cowards, and had brought up her dead father in a very unflattering way. Octavia had only responded in kind, but it probably hadn’t been wise. The cruel woman’s own face had first reddened, then darkened in anger at the younger girl’s words, and she took an aggressive step towards them.

“Echo,” Bellamy’s voice growled from nearby, dangerous and low, “I told you to stay away from my sister.”

The woman tossed an angry glance in the prince’s direction, her wild brown hair blowing in the sudden breeze.

“Of course, _ai Hainofa_ ,” she answered, dipping her head in a small, sarcastic bow, “Whatever you say, of course…”

The slender, dangerous woman turned as though to walk away, but then suddenly twisted back to them, a more serious, hard expression on her face.

“But if I may ask, Bellamy… Why are we camping here? It’s been almost a full day since we left _Azgeda_ … We should be going even further into _Trigeda_ lands, not hiding here on the outskirts. _Trikru_ may be weak and pathetic warriors, but they still know enough to respect strength. How can you expect them to respect us, to be willing to talk, if we act like cowards?”

“I’ve already told you, Echo, we’re waiting here for _Trikru_ to notice us. Once their scouts have spotted our camp, we will send in unarmed emissaries and invite them to meet our delegation. The Queen sent us to make peace… We can’t do that if we look like invaders.”

Clarke nodded at his words, encouraged that he still seemed to be taking her earlier advice to heart. During their long journey south, she had forced herself to set aside her lingering anger and resentment towards him, and had made an effort to get him to talk about his plans for the mission. Initially, his idea had been to do much as Echo had stated… To rush into _Trikru_ lands and force a confrontation, then demand to see their war chief and elders. It had taken some work, but she had finally convinced him that this was not the way to start peaceful negotiations.

Bellamy, Echo, and the other _Skaibona_ men and women here were warriors first. Violence was all they knew, and it was not in their nature or within their experience to act any differently. Clarke was trained as a healer, however, a practice which required one to think carefully and critically about a great many factors in order to determine the proper course of treatment, and that was exactly how she approached this situation now. If this peace mission was ever going to work, and if they were all to survive in the meantime, things would _have_ to be done very carefully. She refused to let her people be killed because of Bellamy’s poor decisions, or due to the twisted machinations of the Ice Queen.

“That plan is foolish, and makes us look _weak_ ,” Echo asserted again, implying by her words that Bellamy was also weak for believing it would work, “We should be using the Mountain as cover to move further into their lands, to move close enough that they must fear what we can do… They will never agree to negotiate with us if they don’t first think we are capable of striking a blow directly into their hearts.”

The prince’s face fell slightly at her words, his deep rooted uncertainty making an appearance in his expression, his confident posture sagging somewhat as he began to doubt himself openly. Clarke took a step closer to them both, concerned now that Echo might convince him to listen to her. Bellamy was an excellent warrior and very brave, there was no denying. Despite his flaws and past mistakes, she didn’t believe him to be a bad person at heart, but she also knew that he was far too malleable, too likely to bend in whatever direction the wind blew most strongly. Unfortunately, Echo seemed to recognize this in him just as well as she herself did.

Around them, the _Skaibona_ warriors were gathering closer, their curious ears eagerly listening to their leaders discuss what to do next. Bellamy may be the son of the previous King of the Ice Nation, and a pure descendent of the sacred Sky Born, but the young man had never led warriors in battle, and everyone knew the Queen would never allow him to be her heir. This mission was his first true test of leadership, and all eyes watched to see what he would do, and whether he was worthy of being followed.

“This mission is about making peace… If we can’t make peace without making war, then what’s the point?” Bellamy said finally, echoing something Clarke had said to him days before. “We’re sticking with this plan, Echo, I’ve already decided.”

His words were confident, but she could still tell that he was doubting himself a little, and so could Echo and the other warriors.

“This isn’t the plan that you and the Queen discussed…,” Echo replied, but the words had been a mistake, as Bellamy instantly made her realize by interrupting her angrily.

“The _Queen_ is not here, I am!”

 _Uh oh, Echo… You shouldn’t have mentioned the Queen_ , Clarke thought gleefully, a small smile twisting her lips.

“Was this her idea?” Echo said quickly, seeing the smile and gesturing towards Clarke as she sought a way to shift the topic away from the Queen. She had made a serious misstep, and now Bellamy’s distaste for doing what the Queen wished was at the forefront of his mind. 

“Clarke is barely old enough to carry those scars she wears, and she’s not a warrior… She doesn’t know what is needed to be done.”

“I earned my scars saving the life of one of _your_ warriors, Echo,” Clarke spoke up, not needing anyone else to defend her. “You’d best hope that I still remember all the lessons I needed to learn in order to earn my scars when _you_ are injured and in need of healing.”

The two women glared at each other, neither one backing down. Traditions were different among all the known twelve clans, but an _Azgeda_ child came of age when they reached seventeen, and it was then that they were given the tribal scars that marked them as a full adult. However, scars could be earned at a much younger age if the child did something significant that proved they were ready to bear the full responsibility of adulthood. Often, a young warrior in training might earn theirs early by killing someone in battle. For Clarke, she had earned hers at sixteen when she stepped in to heal a wounded man brought back to the stronghold. Her mother had been gone visiting outlying Sky Born villages, and no one had expected the warrior to survive his terrible injuries. However, with great difficulty and many days of intense work, she had succeeded in saving his life, and her mother and the other _Skaibona_ elders had decided she was ready for her scars.

“Enough,” Bellamy said after a few moments, his voice ringing out loudly, not just speaking to the two women who were angrily facing off. Clearly he was aware of all the curious eyes upon him, and he had to know that backing down now would only make him look weaker than Echo suggested. Besides, these were _Skaibona_ warriors, and they had no special affection or loyalty towards Echo. If anything, some of their faces were dark with anger on Clarke’s behalf, many of them knowing people who had been healed by the talents of Abby, and many others who respected her mother as a leader among the Sky Born.

Echo, she realized, didn’t seem to recognize how precarious her situation was among them… Doubtless because the arrogant _Azgeda_ woman was not used to being the minority. Normally it was the Sky Born who were greatly outnumbered by the other tribes of the Ice Nation, but not in _this_ delegation. At last, Echo glanced around herself and notice just how hostile the growing crowd was becoming, and she immediately backed away from Clarke, then turned on her heel and strode away without another word. As soon as she did, the others slowly broke off and returned to what they had been doing before, the tense air clearing as though it had never been.

“What a bitch,” Octavia said, and her words succeeded in breaking the tension completely, both Clarke and Bellamy laughing out loud.

“Would you two try not to start any more fights for at least a day or two?” Bellamy complained, but he smiled at his sister in good humor. Despite herself, Clarke was proud of him for standing his ground with Echo. She had not forgiven him for his betrayal of her, but there was too much at stake for her to hold on to her anger and bitterness for long. Her people’s survival, and making this peace with _Trikru_ work, were far more important. Whether she liked it or not, she would need Bellamy to feel like she was on his side, so rather than give him a cold shoulder and walk away, Clarke smiled at him instead. It was her first time doing so since she had been released from prison, and his eyes lit up at seeing the expression directed towards him.

“You’re doing the right thing, Bellamy… This plan will work.”

“I hope so,” he said, seeming encouraged by both her words and smile. They spoke about trivial camp matters for several minutes before he finally left to complete whatever task he had been working on prior to the confrontation with Echo, and the moment he was gone, Octavia turned on her, her gaze accusatory.

“I thought you said you hadn’t forgiven him?” she asked, a bit of hostility in her tone.

Clarke’s pleasant expression fell, a slight scowl quickly replacing the smile that had been on her lips.

“I haven’t,” she said.

“Then why are you being nice to him?” Octavia asked, and this time Clarke heard the protective edge in her voice. She might frequently clash with her older brother on petty matters, but she also did love him fiercely.  To say that the relationship between the two siblings was complicated was a massive understatement at best. Despite her own frustrations with him, Octavia was no doubt becoming suspicious of Clarke’s motives, and she was well aware of how easily her brother could be manipulated by the pretty blond girl.

“Because he _is_ doing the right thing, and the plan _will_ work.”

Octavia shook her head, dark eyes mistrustful on hers.

“Whatever you say, Clarke.”

She turned to leave, but Clarke stopped her, wanting to ask a question that had been turning over in the back of her mind ever since Echo mentioned her scars.

“What?”

“Didn’t you turn seventeen while I was in prison?” she asked carefully, curious despite herself. Octavia scowled and nodded, her expression darkening so much that it looked like a boiling thundercloud.

“Why don’t you have your scars yet? Did Bellamy…?” she trailed off, not sure what she meant to imply. Had Bellamy not allowed her to get her scars? Octavia’s face was as clean and unscarred as it had been before Clarke’s imprisonment, something she hadn’t really thought about up until now, having completely forgotten that the girl had turned seventeen a month or so earlier.

“Bellamy has nothing to do with it,” Octavia snarled, and Clarke was a bit taken aback by her ferocious tone. Obviously her question had struck a nerve.

“Why would I allow _Azgeda_ to mark me?... To _own_ me?” she asked, taking a fierce step closer, her thumb jabbing into her own chest, “Nobody _owns_ me, Clarke… I belong to myself, not the Queen, not even Bellamy, and _definitely_ not the Ice Nation.”

A long silence hung between them at her pronouncements, and Clarke regarded her carefully, feeling as though she was truly seeing Octavia for the first time.

“You don’t intend to ever go back, do you?” she asked quietly.

Octavia didn’t answer. Instead, she closed her eyes for a brief moment… then turned on her heel and slowly walked away.

 

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_Author’s Note:_

_Ohhh Clarke, you manipulative little shit… Oh how I have missed you! And Octavia, so fierce and brave and damaged. I can’t wait to get her and Lincoln together (wait, was I not supposed to give that away?). She needs him in her life so badly, and it breaks my heart that the show killed him off as well… Luckily for us, Lexa and Lincoln both get a second shot at life here in this story. Yay! But Bellamy, you big dumb idiot, don’t screw things up. As you may be able to sense, I am pretty critical of his character, but hopefully I’m not writing him in a way that is OOC. I don’t hate him (or at least, I didn’t in season one and two), but his character has always… frustrated me irrationally. Oh well._

_Raven survived, of course! I don’t think things on the ground are going to be quite what she is expecting, poor girl. A few new Arkers got introduced in this chapter, and on that note, let me mention quick that I noticed an error in the previous chapter. I erroneously described Jones’ hair as short and blonde. That was a typo, and it’s been fixed (his hair is black, by the way)._

_As always, thanks for reading and commenting! I hope you are still enjoying the story as much as I am enjoying writing it. ;)_

_-FlyUpInSky_

 


	14. Captives

 

“What’s the meaning of this? Out of my way.”

Anya glared at the two uniformed security officers who currently barred her path. The men had intercepted her the moment she entered Alpha station, and beneath her surface anger was a sinking suspicion that she knew exactly the reason for their presence. The Council was supposed to meet in just a matter of minutes, and a vote for immediate population reductions to conserve the remaining Ark life support was undoubtedly going to be called for. Her vote could be crucial, and she couldn’t afford to be delayed.

 “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we are under orders to hold you here until Chief Kane arrives.”

“Hold me? I am a member of the Council,” she said coldly, “By what authority do you hold me anywhere?”

“By authority of the Ark Charter,” said Marcus Kane from somewhere behind her, his booted footsteps echoing down the metal corridor. Anya lifted her chin and turned unhurriedly, her face and body perfectly calm and in control. This was not entirely unexpected, after all, and she was never one to panic easily. She had been expecting Kane and the Chancellor to make their move soon, and had been preparing for this from the moment she told Raven that they needed to launch the escape pod earlier than planned.

The Ark’s Chief of Security strode directly up to her, and she felt the two men behind her step closer behind her, as though to block her escape. Anya’s jaw clenched and her cool, hazel toned eyes narrowed. Where another person might have felt fear or apprehension, she only felt a growing, steely determination that worked to sharpen her mind and bring her greater clarity.

“Anya Petrova,” Kane began, holding up a signed document before her for her inspection, “By authority of the Ark Charter, a warrant for the search of all public sections of Polaris station has been issued and signed by the Office of Justice. During execution of this warrant, per chapter three, section five of the Charter, you are being detained by Ark Security without charges for a period not to exceed twenty-four hours, or until such a time as charges can be legally brought against you.”

His words rolled smoothly and confidently off his tongue, as though he had practiced this speech many times. However, rather than the satisfaction she had been expecting to see in him in this moment, he instead seemed cold and distant, as though he had removed himself emotionally from what he was doing.

“It is also my duty to inform you,” Kane continued, “that you, your staff, and all residents of Polaris station are legally required to give all due assistance to the officers as they conduct their searches. Failure to cooperate will result in charges of non-compliance. You are not required to give any personal testimony which may incriminate yourself in a crime. You do _not_ have the right to access to legal counsel, nor do you...”

Anya waived her hand, interrupting him and his flow of tedious legalize.

“Enough of this… Get to the point already, please. What, _exactly_ , do you suspect me of doing?”

 “I am not legally required to tell you that, Councilwoman.”

“This is complete bullshit, Kane,” Anya snarled, giving vent to some of her aggravation. It was important that she act as normally as possible. She was known for her temper, as well as for bluntly speaking her mind. She needed to act as though she had nothing to hide.

It wasn’t what she had done, she knew, but rather what they could _prove_. As intimidating as his speech had no doubt been intended to sound, it had in fact been a relief of sorts. She was not yet being charged with a crime, only held in suspicion while they conducted further searches, which in all likelihood meant that Kane didn’t yet have any hard evidence to support his suspicions. They could only hold her without charging her for twenty-four hours, and per the Special Amendment, search warrants for Polaris station were only valid for eight hours… Polaris was a large station. With the number of officers he had in his department, eight hours wasn’t nearly enough time for a truly thorough search. Raven and the escape pod had launched almost two hours ago, and her people were already hard at work removing any hint of the pod’s existence. If Kane really had any idea of what she, Raven, and Sinclair had been up to for the past few days, she didn’t doubt that she would already be on her way out the nearest airlock.

“I have Council business to attend to… I don’t have time for this.”

 “This is the law, Ms. Petrova,” Kane replied, his eyes narrowing at her words and tone, “And I’m afraid you won’t be making it to the Council meeting.”

“This is absurd… Why all the secrecy, Kane?” she asked, shaking her head as though bewildered by all of this, “I know the Chancellor and I have our differences, but this is taking a political grudge to an unprofessional level. What exactly do you hope to find?”

“Find?” he mused, “Well… nothing, I expect. I’m sure whatever it is you’ve been up to, you’ve already erased any evidence of it, though I supposed there is a chance you’ve missed something.”

Anya glanced at him sharply, her own eyes narrowing at his astuteness. Perhaps this wasn’t about Jaha’s dislike of her and Polaris station at all, or even about Kane’s belief in a strict adherence to the law. It couldn’t be a coincidence that he had chosen to bring her in now, mere minutes from the Council meeting. Kane had been pushing for action since the moment the problems with the Ark’s life support became known, and it was no secret that she planned to vote against the motion today.

 _I’ve just been outmaneuvered_ , she realized grudgingly.

“This isn’t even about _me_ at all, is it?” she growled, “You just needed me out of the way for a while so your pet Councilmen can vote the way you want them to today. Tell me something, does Jaha know that you are taking such… initiative… with his orders?”

“I am the Chief of Security, Ms. Petrova. Even the Chancellor cannot stop me from carrying out my appointed duties,” he intoned, a small, satisfied smile breaking his stoic façade for a moment. “Besides, Council matters are none of my concern, and he _did_ order me to look into your activities… I’m only doing my job, here, and doing what is necessary to protect the Ark, nothing more.”

It was a clever move, and a bold one… Jaha would be furious when he realized just how much Kane was actively manipulating events so that the Council would vote the way he wanted them to. But then, he could hardly go after his Chief of Security for following his own orders.

“Why, Marcus,” Anya purred, a little impressed with him despite herself, “Who knew you had it in you? You know, you might actually make a decent politician someday after all…”

He didn’t reply, having said everything he wanted to say, and instead nodded for his two officers to take her into custody. Anya endured the indignity of being handcuffed in the public hallway without comment, and made no complaint – other than a pointed, cold glare at their offending hands – when the two security officers took her by both arms and led her away.

There was nothing else she could do in this situation. Whether she liked it or not, Anya was about to spend the next twenty-four hours in a holding cell, and she would be unable to effect anything that happened on the Ark _or_ on the ground. The Council meeting would go forward with or without her, and she knew as well as Kane what the resulting vote would be. Hundreds of innocent people were about to be offered up as sacrifices for the greater good, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. It was all up to that cocky young mechanic on the planet’s surface now, and whether or not she could get that radio working in time... As for her own rather sticky situation, all Anya could do was hope and pray that her people on Polaris could handle whatever Kane threw at them.

Anya sighed deeply. It was a frustrated, heavy sound that seemed to rise from somewhere deeper than her chest, as though the breath was pulled from her very soul.

For someone who generally hated to feel powerless, the next twenty-four hours were going to be excruciating.

 

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Finn shifted uncomfortably, his wrists and arms sore from the tight bonds that currently strapped him upright to a vertical beam in the dropship, his aching posterior slowly going numb from sitting in the same position on the hard metal floor for the last two hours. His head still throbbed from the blow Lexa had given him, but it stung considerably less than his pride. She had rung his bell good and proper, and by the time he was sensible again he’d found that he was already tied up and deposited in the dropship like a sack of useless rubbish.

He’d been an idiot… Honestly, he should have known better than to challenge her in front of everyone like that. Finn had always prided himself on being able to read people, to learn what motivated them and what was important to them. Lexa Black, as it turns out, was far more complex and difficult to read than anyone he had ever met before. Despite that, he still felt that he was beginning to understand a bit about who she was and how she thought.

She was a true leader, through and through. There was quite simply no other way he could think to describe her. Though at first he had wondered if she sought to take command merely because she enjoyed the feeling of power and control, he had since come to believe that her reasons were nowhere near so selfish. In fact, he doubted there was a truly selfish bone in her entire body. Everything she did was for others… For her brother, for the camp. For protecting everyone, both those here on the ground and those still up on the Ark. When she had told him that she believed life was about doing what you must to survive, and that survival sometimes required sacrifice, those had not been idle words. In fact, he suspected that her belief in the necessity of self-sacrifice formed the very core of who she was. When the Reapers had charged through the gate just hours ago, she had thrown herself into the gap without hesitation, clearly ready to die if necessary to protect the rest of the camp. When his own life had been on the line that second night on the ground, she had done the exact same, even though she had hardly known him at the time.

When the survival of her people was on the line, Lexa Black would do whatever it took… Including knocking him on his stupid ass.

Though it galled him, now that he had cooled off and had some time to think, he could understand why she hadn’t wanted him along on the recovery mission. She didn’t trust him, and why should she? His reckless behavior during the dropship’s landing had already gotten one person killed. Then, he had been captured while doing exactly what she had warned him not to do, and she and her brother had almost died attempting his rescue. It was no wonder Lexa would rather not bring him along when lives were on the line.

Finn sighed, a dejected sound that made a few of his current co-inhabitants in the dropship glance over at him. Several of them were the recently wounded from the earlier battle, and he immediately felt guilty for dwelling in self-pity while others were either dead or injured. Lexa may have rejected his help and seriously bruised his ego, but he should be counting his blessings. He had been lucky to survive the attack today... They all had been.

_No, not lucky… It was Lexa. If not for her, we might all be dead._

 She truly was terrifying in battle. The first time he had seen her fight, it had been in the dark of night, and her skills and ferociousness had impressed and frightened him even then. She was absolutely fearless, and in the bright light of day her abilities had been, if anything, even more impressive. How she had learned to fight like that on the Ark was a complete mystery to him, but he couldn’t deny that it was _her_ abilities and willingness to use violence that were currently saving the camp from complete destruction…

Was he wrong, then, not carrying a weapon, not learning to fight? Any time Finn thought about picking up a weapon, he felt like he was losing a small part of himself. It was as though life on the ground was slowly cutting pieces of his soul away and discarding them in the dirt. War and senseless human conflict were what had destroyed the planet in the first place, and he truly did believe that there had to be a better way, but it was getting harder and harder to remember that with each day that passed. Now people were dying, being killed right before his eyes. Was it fair for him to refuse to fight if it only meant others must fight and die in his stead?

Sitting here by himself was giving him too much time to think. Though he doubted it had been her intention, Lexa’s knee to his face had actually been a bit of a wakeup call… He had always been extremely independent, and he loved the thrill he felt when he took chances and did dangerous things, but it was time he stop acting like his actions didn’t have an effect on anyone else besides himself. He was one of the hundred now, and Lexa was the one keeping them all alive. From this moment forward, he decided he would do whatever it took to support her, to prove to her and the others that he could be trusted. She’d more than proven that she deserved to be in charge, and he owed her that much, at least… She’d already saved his life several times over, after all.

“Hey, Spacewalker,” Wells called, and Finn lifted his head, relieved to be distracted from his depressed thoughts and self-recriminations.

“You doing alright there?” the Chancellor’s son asked, looking down at him with a slightly concerned expression. “I could get you some water… Or, you know, untie you, if you promise not to do anything stupid.”

Finn looked at him with surprise, not saying anything for a moment. He had always gotten the impression that Wells didn’t like him very much, and was therefore surprised he was being so kind to him now. Did Wells not approve of Lexa having him tied up, or was it that he didn’t like to see anyone suffer, never mind who they were?

“Water would be great,” Finn admitted, “and being untied would be even better, but won’t that piss Lexa off?”

Wells bent over him and starting the slow work of loosening the knots that held him.

“Not as long as you stay put and don’t do anything idiotic, it won’t… Besides, they should be back soon.”

As though his words had summoned them, a sudden noise broke out from outside, and Finn could tell from the shouting and raised voices that their friends had returned. Wells abruptly stood and stepped back at the sounds, a guilty expression on his face, as though he was a little boy who had just gotten caught doing something wrong by his parents.

“Sounds like they’re back,” Finn said dryly, raising and eyebrow, “So… are you still going to untie me, or what?”

Wells sighed, scrubbing the back of his head roughly with one hand, then turning and glancing out the dropship door. After a moment more of consideration, he finally shrugged and stepped back over to Finn, bending down and reaching for the knots once more. He had no more than freed the first knot, however, when loud, hurried steps echoed on the dropship ramp and caused him to pause and turn again. His body blocked Finn’s view, but he still heard her voice with startling nearness and clarity when she called his name.

“Finn?!”

At the sound of her voice, his head jerked so sharply in surprise that he almost banged it against the metal beam supporting him.

_There’s no way… She can’t possibly be here!_

“…Raven?”

 

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Throwing herself past the large young man who stood in her way, Raven flung herself down and wrapped her arms around Finn, burying her face against the side of his neck. The moment she felt his warm body against hers and smelled the sweaty tang of his skin, the reality of him there safe and sound hit her and she started both laughing and crying in relief.

“Raven, what... What are you doing here?” Finn was asking, and she could hear the shock in his voice.

She laughed again, pulling back from him a few inches so that she could see his face, rubbing away her happy tears with one hand and smiling down at him. She was nearly sitting in his lap, and his confused face was only inches from hers.

“You didn’t think I would let a little thing like this separate us, did you?” she told him, waving her arm as if to indicate the entire planet, her grin so big that it felt like her face was splitting right open.

After everything she had gone through in the last week to be here… After defying all the odds, and surviving the dangerous trip to the surface, Raven couldn’t believe she had actually made it and that Finn was really _here_ , right in front of her. Her heart felt like it was going to explode with joy and relief, and not able to wait a second more, she leaned forward and kissed him passionately, pouring all of the love and happiness she was feeling into the kiss. Finn didn’t react to the kiss immediately, his surprise and confusion over her presence there obviously still overwhelming him, but after several seconds he finally responded and kissed her back, albeit not with nearly as much passion as she would have hoped. When the kiss ended, Raven leaned back and searched out his eyes with her own, her brows furrowing slightly as she realized just what situation he was in. She’d been so overjoyed to see him that she had hardly stopped to wonder why he was sitting stiffly on the floor.

“Finn… What the hell? Why are you tied up?” she asked, jerking back further to examine his bonds.

The large boy who had been standing there beside them all along coughed awkwardly, and she glanced up at him with a frown.

“I was just about to untie him,” he explained apologetically, looking slightly bashful at the intensity of her glare, though she supposed his embarrassment could have been over seeing their intimate kiss moments before. The large, handsome young man bent down, his fingers working the knots that tied Finn’s wrists together behind the beam.

“Raven,” Finn said, drawing her attention back to him, “What are you _doing_ here? Was that you that landed earlier?”

“Of course,” she replied, a cocky smile replacing the frown on her lips. “Did you really think anyone else would be crazy enough to take a trip to the surface in a hundred year old escape pod?”

Her boyfriend groaned and rolled his eyes at her arrogance, his face still worried and pale in the dim light inside the dropship.

“You could have died! Why would you do that? It’s not safe down here… You shouldn’t have risked it!”

“I’m not an idiot, Finn,” she interrupted, a note of annoyance creeping into her voice. Really, this was not exactly the happy reunion she had been imagining. Why was he being such a jerk about things, scolding her as if she were a child? She was a mechanical genius… She knew better than anyone what the risks had been in coming down in that pod. Of course, Raven knew that he was only worried about her. He’d always protected her, ever since they were children, and she knew he simply didn’t want to see her get hurt, but that didn’t keep his words from being hurtful, and from wounding her pride.

“I knew what I was doing… And why would you even need to ask me why I did it? I did it for you, of course… I love you, Finn. Did you think I would let them leave you down here on the planet to die and not do anything?” she said, some of the hurt she was feeling showing in her voice.

As she was talking, Finn’s bonds abruptly came loose as the other boy succeeded in feeing him, and his arms fall back to his sides. He reached out to her, putting his arms around her and smiling apologetically, his long, soft brown hair falling into his face.

“I’m sorry, Raven… I didn’t mean… I didn’t mean for you to think that I wasn’t glad to see you,” he told her, his words soft and soothing. He kissed her softly, a chaste brushing of lips against hers, and she felt some of her hurt disappear with the kiss. The words and gesture were exactly what she had wanted, and yet… It still felt a little strange. Despite his closeness, she couldn’t help but feel like there was still some distance between them, as though she had left a part of herself up on the Ark, and he was holding a part of _himself_ back as well. He was right there in her arms again, just as she had hoped and dreamt of for days, and yet nothing was quite as she had imagined it would be.

“I’m glad you came down for me,” he told her, pulling back from the brief kiss and smiling.

“Well, I might have lied just a little bit about that,” she said, shifting into a joking mood in the hopes that it would dispel whatever strange, uncomfortable sensation was now filling her.

“I mean, I did come down for you, of course, but I also came down because we needed to get a working radio here on the surface or else hundreds of people are going to be killed. The Ark is dying, Finn, and Anya said they’re going to vote for a big population reduction soon if we don’t convince them that the surface is survivable. I brought a replacement radio for the dropship so we can try to talk to them.”

“Anya?” Finn asked, and for some reason, his mention of the Councilwoman suddenly made her mind flash back to the unexpected, fierce kiss they had shared just before the escape pod launched, and Raven felt her face flush at the memory. In all the excitement of the launch and landing, Raven hadn’t thought much about the kiss, but had instead pushed it firmly from her mind.

Raven cleared her suddenly dry throat, leaning back from Finn and standing so that he himself could get to his feet, reaching down with one hand to help him up.

“Uh, yes… Anya Petrova. She’s the Station Representative for Polaris and she’s also on the Council. Anya is… a major control freak, and she’s annoying as hell, but it was her idea to launch the escape pod and bring a radio down. This whole thing was her plan. She’s hates the Chancellor, but she was convinced he was actually right about the surface. This radio could save everybody, Finn… If we can just let them know that the planet is safe, we might be able to convince them to start the Exodus instead of killing people to keep the life support system running for longer.”

Was she babbling? It kind of felt like she was babbling just a little bit, and it aggravated her that the infuriating politician was still messing with her even while separated by thousands of miles and the vacuum of space. Raven was pretty sure that the only reason Anya had kissed her was because she knew exactly how upsetting and confusing that might be, and she hadn’t wanted to pass up one last opportunity to torture and unsettle her.

“You have a radio? Raven, that’s great! If we can talk to the Ark…”

“Wait, wait… Finn, you never told me why you were tied up here,” she said, looking both at him and the other young man who still stood nearby.

“It’s… complicated,” Finn said, shaking his head dismissively, “And it was totally my fault.”

“What? That’s bullshit, Finn… Who did this to you?”

Raven was starting to get angry, annoyed by his evasiveness. Why wouldn’t he just tell her what had happened? She turned to the other boy, glaring at him pointedly. She was going to get answers, one way or another.

“You! Who are _you_ , by the way?”

“Wells,” he told her quickly, looking a bit uncomfortable to have her fury directed at him.

“Well then, _Wells_ ,” she said, “Do you mind telling me why my boyfriend was tied up in here like a goddamn prisoner?”

“Look, Raven,” Finn interrupted with a placating tone, “Just forget it, okay? I tried to do something stupid, and Lexa was just making sure I didn’t…”

“Wait, _Lexa_ did this?” she asked, not letting him finish, a note of surprise in her voice. “Are those bruises on your face from her too?”

“Well… yes. But like I said, it’s not a big deal. She was only doing what she had to. I shouldn’t have pushed her.”

Finn was looking guilty and uncomfortable as he spoke, his eyes shifting sideways, not looking at her. Wells used her moment of distraction to shuffle towards the door and make his escape, clearly intent on not getting any further in the middle of their lover’s quarrel. She snorted in exasperation and Finn looked back at her, sighing.

“Look,” he said, trying once again to explain, “A lot has happened down here… We’re not alone. There are people trying to kill us, and Lexa… Lexa is the one who is keeping us all alive. If it weren’t for her, we’d all be dead already. I was about to do something I shouldn’t have, and I didn’t give her much of a choice. Let’s just leave it at that, okay?”

Raven eyed him distrustfully, a bit alarmed by his conciliatory tone and apparent deference towards the woman who had forcibly tied him up and left him in the dropship like a prisoner. This didn’t seem at all like the Finn she had known… Why was he so determined to defend what Lexa had done to him? After everything Anya and Sinclair had told her, Raven had looked forward to finally meeting Lexa with much anticipation. Anyone who worked closely with that crazy politician must be a pretty formidable person, she had assumed, and it had intrigued her that Anya clearly cared so much for her. Who was this Lexa Black person, really? In the woods, she had definitely been the one in charge, and she had seemed extraordinarily confident and decisive, though she couldn’t hardly be much older than the rest of them. Clearly her authority extended to everyone else in the camp, not just the small group that had rescued Raven in the woods.

The way Finn was defending and praising her gave Raven some pause. It wasn’t that she was jealous, exactly. Of course not! She knew Finn loved her, and she felt secure in their relationship. It was just… strange that Finn was apparently so loyal to this other woman whom he had only known for a short week.

“Fine,” she said finally, shoving aside her concerns, not having forgotten that there was still an urgent, time sensitive mission that needed to be completed. There would be plenty of time for them to catch up and reacquaint themselves with each other once the radio was fixed.

“You tell me about everything that’s happened on the ground, and I’ll get to work on the radio. Monty should be here soon with the supplies,” she told him, and Finn looked relieved that she was dropping the subject.

“And don’t leave anything out, understand?” Raven added, pointing a scolding finger at his chest, “I want to hear about everything.”

 

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Lexa leaned her head back, her eyes searching the stars overhead, watching the bright points of light as they wheeled and twinkled mysteriously in the night’s sky. The sun had just set a short time ago, and each second revealed more and more of the hidden heavens beyond. For a brief moment, Lexa felt how small and insignificant she truly was when compared to the vast expanse of the sky. Somewhere up there the Ark spun its graceful loop around the planet, travelling the same endless path it had been travelling for almost a hundred years. She strained her eyes, wondering if she could make out the moving point of light that was the Ark. It wasn’t really the Ark that she wanted to see, however, but the one station which seemed to carry both all the questions and all of the answers…

_…Polaris._

She mouthed the word silently, testing how it felt on her tongue. It felt familiar, and the knowledge of its familiarity haunted her now. When Wells had told her that he knew who she was, he had mentioned not only Anya, but Polaris as well. At the time, there had been so much she hadn’t known and so many strange, unexplained things happening that she had been fairly overwhelmed. She hadn’t thought much about Polaris until the moment she saw that escape pod in the forest just a few short hours ago.

Now, _everything_ had changed. Lexa didn’t know what was real any more… what was true. Was what she had been taught in her old life the truth, or had it only been one small piece of the puzzle? What was Polaris, and how was it linked to the first Commander? Who was Lexa Black, and why had she been born on the Ark and not on the ground? For that matter, who was the first _Commander_ , and where had the Spirit come from, really?

If Lexa followed the clues to their logical conclusion, it seemed everything led back to Polaris… And if Raven was successful, she might soon have a means to contact the mysterious station directly. Was it possible that Anya would have some of the answers she sought? As confused and lost as she was currently feeling, the sudden possibility of being able to speak to her deceased childhood mentor again was like a desperate soul deep wish come true. Her heart ached to have someone with whom she could share some of her burdens and ask for advice. However, the Anya who lived on the Ark was not the same one she had known in her own lifetime, and no matter how much she tried, she had only been able to find small pieces of her in her new memoires. Could she completely trust and confide in _this_ Anya just as she had the one in her own reality?

She _should_ be talking to Aden about what she had discovered… He was a Nightblood, and the truth about the Commander’s spirit was as much his legacy as it was hers, but she dreaded putting so much doubt and uncertainty on his young shoulders. Discussing her suspicions with him might make _her_ feel better, but it seemed too much to ask of someone so young. He had already lost everything he had ever known when he came with her to this strange world. Throwing all of her current doubts and concerns at him now would only cause the boy more pain and fear, and she didn’t want that for him.

Lexa closed her eyes briefly, blocking out the painful sight of the stars, her chest and throat growing tight as loneliness wrapped its cold limbs closer around her.

No, there was only one person Lexa wanted beside her right now… Just one person with whom she could have shared all her burdens and fears. What she wouldn’t give for just a few _moments_ with Clarke again. Just to be able to talk to her, or even to be scolded by her… Those last few weeks in Polis had been the first in many years that Lexa hadn’t felt alone. Even when Clarke was angry with her and not speaking to her, even just having her there had soothed some part of Lexa’s soul. Now that same part of her soul was torn out and missing, and with each new revelation that challenged everything she thought she knew about herself, and about her place in the world, the pain of missing Clarke became harder and harder to bear.

Lexa released a slow breath, wishing she could find some measure of peace in meditation and communion with the Commander’s spirit, but even that small solace was currently denied to her. More than ever, she was desperate to discover why the Spirit was inaccessible. If only she could awaken it within her again, she felt sure that some of the answers she needed could be found through its wisdom and accumulated knowledge.

She allowed herself to stand in the darkness for a minute more, staring at the stars and letting her mind wander wherever it wanted to go, images of Clarke and Anya as she had last seen them flashing before her eyes. Finally, she lowered her head and gathered herself, the stoic and determined façade of the Commander taking over her features once more. Lexa straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin, then strode from the darkness and back into the light of the campfires, her steps sure and purposeful.

Raven and Monty were still working on the radio, and those not assigned to the first shift of guard duty were settling in for the night, trying to get what sleep they could before the Reapers attacked again. Lexa was tired from the exhausting day and she wanted nothing more than to find her own rest, but she had something that needed to be taken care of first. Something that could no longer be put off. She’d thought carefully about who else she should involve in this matter, and had finally decided on the two whom she felt were the best suited.

“Jones, Miller, I need you both for something… Come with me,” Lexa said when she found the two boys. They were sharing a campfire and a meager meal of cooked deer meat with several others, but at her words they both nodded and set down their food, grabbing their weapons and joining her. She led them away from the lights of the fire, following the curve of the dropship into the deeper darkness at the rear of the camp.

 Once they were well away from all the others, she stopped and beckoned them closer. They both stepped close and looked back at her with careful attentiveness.

“What’s the problem, boss?” Jones asked with his typical blunt cheerfulness, but his eyes glinted dangerously in the darkness, as though sensing she was about to ask them to do something violent that he would enjoy greatly. His constant, careless good humor seemed sharply at odds with how effortlessly brutal he could be, but Lexa had known his type before, and so the apparent dichotomy did not alarm or confuse her as it did many others. Miller remained quiet and watchful, as much of a cipher as he always was, but she sensed his anticipation as well. She trusted that these two young men were well-suited to the specific task at hand, and Lexa had always been an excellent judge of such things.

“The problem is John Murphy,” she said without hesitation, her voice as hard and frozen as a mountain glacier, “and I need you to bring him to me.”

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

When two strong sets of hands yanked him abruptly backwards by the scruff of his shirt, John Murphy nearly pissed on himself.

Oh, not because he was frightened, of course. No, it was because the two men grabbed him as he stood relieving himself over the long, dugout trench that served as the camp latrine. As soon as he realized what was happening, Murphy cursed and struck out with his arms, flailing and kicking against his attackers. Large, meaty arms wrapped tight around him, however, pinning his own arms uselessly to his sides and choking the breath from his lungs. Barely able to move, he quickly gave up his struggle when a low voice warned that they would, “rip his useless prick right off” if he didn’t stop fighting them. That made him freeze, suddenly feeling very vulnerable and exposed, and his captor chuckled cruelly in his ear at his reaction to the threat. It was the laugh that gave him away, and Murphy twisted his head, craning to see his face.

“Jones? What the fuck, man? Let me go!”

“Sorry, John-boy, no can do… Somebody needs to talk to you,” Jones said, his words whispered cheerfully.

“Oh, right, because every good conversation starts with an abduction,” Murphy snarled sarcastically, never one to openly show fear if he could help it.

Jones didn’t say anything, merely laughed softly again, and Murphy tried to jerk free one more time. As he did he felt the sharp point of a blade prick the side of his neck, and he turned to see another form in the darkness beside him, his weapon held against his throat in a clear threat.

“Don’t,” the other man said, and Murphy was pretty sure the second man was Miller.

“Let’s go, and be nice and quiet or I’ll see just how good my aim is with this knife at night, understand?”

Mind racing, Murphy allowed the two young men to haul him further into the darkness near the back of the camp, his heart beating faster and faster as he struggled to remain calm. He was pretty sure he knew who they were taking him to, but he didn’t yet know why, and he couldn’t help the small knot of fear that was slowly building in his chest.

When they reached the wall that surrounded the camp, Jones abruptly threw him forwards and Murphy fell to his knees, stopping with his nose only inches from the wooden wall. He pulled himself to his feet and turned around, and there she was, standing right before him, the two boys framing her on either side. Murphy swallowed, his clever mind working frantically.

“What the hell is this?” he asked, talking directly to Lexa. The other two were just her goons, he knew, and there would be no point in talking to them.

She took a slow step forward and extended her hand, something round and dark held there. Her gaze was calm and composed in the dark, her face a pale oval from the poor light of the waning moon.

“Do you recognize this?” she asked, and the question was sharp and laced with meaning.

Murphy frowned, squinting at her hand in the dark, struggling to make out what it was she held.

_A rock?... What the hell?_

“It’s a stupid rock… So what?” he snarled.

Lexa’s eyebrow arched, and even in the darkness he could see her perfect jawline clench in anger at his tone. Her chin tilted towards him slightly, and before he even had time to register the movement, Jones stepped forward and slugged him directly in the stomach with his large fist, causing the breath to fly out of him in a forced exhalation. Murphy wretched and bent over, his stomach muscles burning and protesting, chest heaving. As soon as he was able to pull himself upright again, he immediately regretted doing so, as Jones then promptly punched him in the face once, then twice, making Murphy’s head spin and blood drip from his nose. He staggered backwards, but was brought up short when his back hit the camp wall, and he watched in panic as Jones took another step and raised his fist again, clearly intending to hit him more.

“Enough,” Lexa’s cold voice called, and Jones paused, then stepped back with a faint look of regret.

Murphy patted his dripping nose with his sleeve and spat blood on the ground, anger burning up from the center of his being, filling him and muting much of the pain from the blows. This wasn’t his first time taking a beating, and he would be damned if he would give her the satisfaction of acting like it had hurt.

“Now,” she said, and Murphy’s angry glare focused away from Jones and back on her. “Let me ask you again… Do you recognize this?”

“Jesus, what do you want from me? It’s a rock, okay? Yes, I’ve seen rocks before,” he replied, his words an annoyed growl.

Really, this insane woman was even crazier than he had originally thought. More blood pooled in his mouth from a cut on the inside of his lip and he spit again, keeping his eyes on her as he did.

“Do not think to play games with me, Murphy,” Lexa said, and her voice was liked bared steel in the night.

“Let me be more clear… During the battle today, this rock was thrown at me while I was fighting a Reaper, and it nearly got me killed.”

She dropped the heavy stone into the muddy earth at her feet and Murphy’s eyes followed it as it fell, the dark slash of his eyebrows drawing together in consternation. He looked back up at her face, and the knowing, cold gaze she gave him chilled him to the bone.

“So… what? You think I threw it, then?” he asked, understanding now why she had ordered him grabbed in the night and brought here, away from observing eyes.

“I am not a fool, Murphy,” she snarled, her eyes narrowing. “Of all the people in this camp, you are clearly the one who did this.”

“Oh, of course, blame John Murphy, it had to be him!” he replied, his tone mocking. “As if this whole camp isn’t made up of criminals… You know what, Black? I may be trash, but so is everyone else here, and it doesn’t matter how hard you all try to forget that, it’s still true. Just look at Jones, here… Do you know what he did to get locked up? Well, let me tell you…”

Murphy’s tirade was cut short as Jones again leapt forward and punched him, this time three quick strikes to his face, the ferocity and quickness of the blows making Murphy stumble and fall to his knees.

“I said, that’s enough, Jones!” Lexa shouted, and the boy finally stopped, his chest heaving as he panted, fists clenched as he stared down at Murphy’s hunched form. Miller had stepped closer, his expression wary as he watched Jones, clearly concerned by the other boy having gone off script.

“Hey man, calm down,” Miller said, and Jones seemed to shake himself, his normally cheerful face twisted into an intense frown. He turned and walked several feet away, clearly upset, and Murphy laughed through his bloodied mouth, shaking his head as he struggled back up to his feet.

“See?” he said, eyes meeting Lexa’s again, “Everyone here is just the same as me.”

“So, you deny it then? You expect me to believe that you didn’t do it?”

“I _didn’t_ do it,” he insisted, frustration in his voice. “Look, I might be nothing but criminal trash, but I’m also not an idiot… Seriously, you honestly believe that I would be so stupid as to try to kill you with a rock? And when the whole camp is about to be killed by fucking _savages_? Thanks, but I actually _like_ being alive… You would _have_ to be an idiot to think that was a good plan.”

The insufferable woman seemed to hesitate at this, her cool expression lifting for a moment as she puzzled over his words, a note of confusion now in her eyes. Murphy sniffled his bleeding nose and dabbed at it again with his sleeve, suddenly extremely tired and feeling every one of the painful blows he had received.

“Look, Black… I don’t like you,” he said after several moments, “You’re a real bitch, and it pisses me off how everyone is so eager to lick your damn boots all the time, but I _didn’t_ try to kill you…”

She seemed to consider him in silence for a few moments more, and he braced himself for another beating.

“If not you, then who?” she said finally, her eyes intent on his face.

He laughed sourly, and there was no amusement in the sound.

“Hell if I know… You got any other enemies down here?”

Lexa Black stared back at him in the moonlight, her eyes lost and distant, and he wondered just what strange thoughts were moving behind those eyes.

“I don’t know,” she said quietly, a questioning lilt in her voice.

Then, turning on her heel and walking away from him slowly, she paused and added a few more words over her shoulder; words that sounded like a promise.

“But I intend to find out.”

 

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_Author’s Note:_

_Ohhh Murphy, you poor lost soul you. Always getting blamed for things you didn’t do. It’s kind of his thing. I bet even you gentle readers were blaming him for that whole rock throwing thing!… Shame on you, readers! ;)_

_Also, it looks like Lexa Black’s past might be coming back to haunt her (Lexa Black, not Heda Leksa). Her memories are filling in, but there is still a lot she doesn’t know about herself! And let me just say that it hurts my heart a little bit that she and Clarke are so close, and yet they both have no idea the other is there… Why am I writing a slow burn fic again? Honestly, though, I enjoy writing all of the other plotlines as well, and the anticipation for Clexa is just going to make it more enjoyable for me when they do finally meet again, so hopefully you feel the same way (though I know the wait is getting excruciating for some of you… stay strong, my friends!)_

_Thanks so much to all you kind people who take the time to comment/review... Your insights are wonderful, and you all keep me honest to the characters and really do make me a better writer with your thoughtful words. Thanks so much for reading!_

_-FlyUpInSky_


	15. Lost Souls

As night settled over the _Skaibona_ camp after their first full day in _Trigeda_ territory, the hushed whispers of leaves rustling in the breeze and the rhythmic buzzing of insects were the only sounds to be heard. Other than those assigned to camp watch, almost all of the warriors were already asleep in their bedrolls, fires banked low so that only the muted glow of coals could be seen. One small fire still burned brightly, however, and its light intensified as the young woman seated beside it added a small branch to the flames. She looked up when Octavia approached and the light of the fire glinted off the soft curls of her golden hair, illuminating her face.

“Can’t sleep?” Octavia asked, taking a seat beside Clarke on one end of her bedroll.

The other woman was curled into a seated position under the thick blanket, her elbows resting on her covered knees. It took her several moments to answer, and Octavia cocked her head sideways to look at her profile, eyes narrowing at the faraway expression she saw there on her face.

“It still feels strange,” Clarke finally said, glancing back over at her briefly, a small, uncomfortable smile making an appearance on her face.

“What does?”

“This… _Everything_ ,” she replied, shrugging, “It’s not as bad during the day, but at night… When I wake up and it’s dark, I forget what’s happened, and for a few moments I’m right back _there_ again…”

“Back there?”

“The prison,” Clarke said, grimacing slightly, and Octavia’s eyebrows rose at the admission.

“I know… It’s stupid,” she said, seeing the younger woman’s surprise, “but it’s like some part of me still thinks this is all just a dream, and when I wake I’ll be locked up in the dark again.”

Clarke shrugged again and looked back to the fire, her brows knitting together as she studied the flames contemplatively. Octavia hadn’t thought much about what Clarke might have endured as a prisoner to the Ice Queen, nor had she considered what her sudden release and forced participation in this mission might have been like for her, and now she felt a bit ashamed at her self-centeredness. She’d been so glad, so incredibly happy and excited to leave the Ice Nation and go along on this expedition, and her small power struggles with Bellamy and plans for future freedom and occupied most of her mind during the journey since.

“It’s not stupid, Clarke,” she said firmly, shaking her head, “You were in prison for a long time… I think it would be weird if freedom _didn’t_ feel strange to you at first.”

“You’re right, of course,” Clarke agreed, clearly eager for a change of subject. She was never one to want to discuss her own vulnerabilities, and that was certainly something Octavia could relate to. The young woman had been locked away in prison for almost six months, and that was sure to have a lasting effect on anyone. She doubted Clarke would admit that, however, not even to herself.

 _In different ways, we were both prisoners of the Ice Queen, and now we are both free_ , Octavia mused, the thought reminding her of why she had come over to Clarke’s fire in the first place.

“Well, in the meantime,” she said a bit more cheerfully, reaching down into her pack and drawing forth the small bottle she had brought to give to her, “maybe this will help you sleep.”

“What is this?” Clarke asked, smiling as she took the flask. Opening it and passing it under her nose so that she could take and experimental sniff, her smile grew into a huge grin.

“Ice whiskey?!” she exclaimed, chuckling, “Octavia… I haven’t had a drop of alcohol in six months. If I drink this, I won’t just sleep, I’ll probably pass out!”

“So don’t drink _all_ of it, you idiot!”

“Where did you even get this out here? Don’t tell me Bellamy didn’t notice you packing this…”

“It was a gift from a friend,” Octavia explained cagily, and Clarke laughed softly again, her blue eyes twinkling with amusement. It was a welcome change from the sadness that had been in them only moments before.

“Really? Let me guess… Was it that young Varik that Bellamy caught you kissing three days ago, or was it Noah, the one who helped you set up your tent today?”

“Varik?” she groaned, waving her hand dismissively, not at all embarrassed by Clarke’s teasing. The moment they had left the capitol, she had decided that she had had enough of living like a stowaway, afraid every moment to bring too much attention to herself. She was young, dammit, and beautiful, and she was going to start living her life for a change. This past week had been the first time in her life she’d been free to act like a young person should… To flirt with men and boys who were near her own age. If it weren’t for Bellamy’s constant interference, she would have probably done more than just steal a few kisses here and there.

“He ran away _the second_ my brother warned him to leave me alone… No, it was Noah. He’s very helpful, isn’t he?”

“I’d say,” Clarke agreed, still smiling slightly as she took a slow drink from the flask. She lowered it and swallowed with a blissful expression on her face, and though Octavia had half expected her to cough after downing the harsh spirits, she wasn’t surprised when the other girl didn’t so much as flinch.

“Well? How does your first drink as a free woman taste?”

“Good stuff,” she praised, licking her lips before taking another quick drink, then closing the cap and handing the bottle back over to her.

“No, you keep it,” Octavia said, refusing to take it. Clarke raised an eyebrow.

“Really? Are you sure? It _was_ a gift from an admirer… Won’t he be upset if you just give it away?”

Octavia shrugged, not really caring one way or the other.

“Maybe… Don’t care, though,” she said carelessly, and it was true. She didn’t care much what Noah or anyone else in this camp thought, other than Bellamy and Clarke.

“You keep it. Like I said, maybe it will help you sleep… And, if anyone here deserves a stiff drink, I think it’s probably you.”

Clarke regarded her for a moment, a curious expression on her face, then nodded and withdrew her hand, setting the flask down beside her on the blanket.

“Well, if you’re sure, then… Thank you.”

Octavia nodded, and they both went back to staring at the fire. She knew it was time for her to leave, that the longer she dragged this out tonight, the harder it would be, but something about the flames and the quiet of the night pulled her close. Was she really doing this?

_Yes._

“Well, we should both probably get some sleep… See you in the morning,” she said finally, moving to rise to her feet.

“Octavia, wait,” Clarke said, putting a hand on her leg to keep her from leaving. She looked down at the slightly older girl, working to keep her expression relaxed and calm, not wanting her to sense her anxiety or her intentions. She must not have been entirely successful, however, as she saw that the blonde girl’s face was set into a penetrating expression, her clever blue eyes looking up at her with concern.

“Yes?”

“It’s just… I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier today, about not taking the scars?”

She felt herself go still at her words, emotions rising within her again at the reminder of their earlier conversation that day.

“I know things were difficult for you… The old Ice King, he was a cruel, petty man, and Queen Nia is no better. I understand why you feel the way you do about _Azgeda_ …”

“Oh, you understand, do you?” Octavia couldn’t help herself from interrupting, a hint of sarcasm in her tone. Clarke didn’t let it stop her from continuing however, her face earnest and stubbornly set as she continued to speak.

“I think I do, actually… I’m a dangerous traitor, remember? I’m not exactly the most welcomed person in _Azgeda_ right now.”

Octavia had to concede that she had a point there, but it didn’t make her any more eager to hear Clarke’s next words.

“So, believe me when I tell you, you _do_ have a place where you belong, where _both_ of us belong. You’re one of the sacred Sky Born, Octavia… Whether you carry the scars or not, we _are_ your people. Everyone here, all the _Skaibona_ back in _Azgeda_ , we’ve _always_ been your people, and we always will be… I just… I wanted you to know that.”

Clarke’s hand squeezed briefly, then she released her, a sincere smile on her lips. Octavia swallowed around a suddenly dry throat, and again she wondered if Clarke had somehow sensed what she had planned, and if this wasn’t an oblique attempt to convince her not to do it. She turned away slowly and faced the welcoming dark of the forest beyond, and her own voice sounded hollow and distant in her ears as she spoke, as though she was already far, far away.

“Thanks, Clarke,” she said, not looking at her as she stepped into the darkness, leaving the girl and the circle of light behind.

“But you’re wrong… I don’t belong anywhere.”

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Where is she, Anya?”

The woman looked up at him, her eyes cool and maddeningly composed, her hair and tasteful makeup still perfect despite the long hours she had already spent locked in this very cell.

“Where is who?” she asked, her expression giving nothing away.

Marcus ground his teeth and clenched his jaw at her obvious deflection. After the events of the past few hours, his nerves were raw and his emotions fraught beneath the surface, and he found it a struggle now to rein in his temper. The warrant for the search of Polaris station was about to expire, and so far his officers had found nothing. He himself had not participated in much of the search, as dealing with the results of the Council meeting had required his immediate attention, and the search itself had been abandoned entirely when other emergency priorities took precedence. They may not have found anything damning, but one thing had become clear, however, and he cursed himself for not noticing it much sooner.

“Don’t be coy,” he growled, “Where is that young woman you call your assistant… Where is Lexa Black?”

This time his words did get a response, a quick flash of something that might have been surprise passing over her face before she quickly schooled it back into place. Her surprise at the name he gave made him pause… It was almost as if she had been expecting him to ask about someone else, but who? He filed the suspicion away for later consideration.

“Lexa?” Anya mused, shrugging slightly, the intensity of her gaze on his the only thing giving away just how focused she truly was.  “I wouldn’t know… She hasn’t been my assistant for almost a week now.”

“Really?” he snorted, letting her hear the disbelief in his voice.

“Yes,” she insisted, “It was most unfortunate… I do love the girl, you understand. I’ve known her since she was a child, and she’s done great work for me these past few years, but lately… She just wasn’t keeping up. I think perhaps the stress was too much for her to handle. She was becoming a liability, you see. I had to let her go, for her own good as well as mine.”

“The stress was too much to handle?” he echoed, shaking his head angrily. “You forget, Anya, I’ve met Ms. Black many times… Save your bullshit for someone who will believe it.”

At times revealing herself to be just as intimidating and relentlessly focused as Anya was, Lexa Black was perhaps the most frighteningly competent young woman Marcus had ever met. When she first began to appear at the Councilwoman’s side, she’d been remarkable for her youth and focused perceptiveness, but she’d quickly started to stand out to him in other ways as well. She was more than just Anya’s shadow and political protégée. Well-spoken, intelligent, and fiercely loyal to Polaris station, he had noted her as someone to be watched very carefully in coming years. There had also been other rumors about her… Rumors that she did Anya’s dirty work, but Marcus had always mostly chalked that up to people with too much idle time on their hands and a love for scandalous tales. If either Anya or Lexa had done anything blatantly illegal in the past, he felt certain he would have long since caught wind of it, and he would have immediately pursued an investigation.

Anya’s eyes had narrowed at his tone and language and he made himself take a calming breath, knowing as he did so that he was letting the difficult and painful events of the last few hours get to him. He probably shouldn’t even be here right now, he reflected, aware that he wasn’t in the proper frame of mind to be questioning someone as astute and dangerous as Anya Petrova.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she said.

“Lexa Black is wanted for questioning, so you _will_ tell me where I can find her, or I will make the second half of your stay with us as uncomfortable as possible for you… I don’t care if you did fire her. Don’t pretend that you still wouldn’t have kept tabs on her, and don’t know _exactly_ where she is or might be.”

“Believe me, Kane, I have better, more important things to do with my time than _keep tabs_ on a woman I just fired… If I knew where she was, _exactly_ , I would tell you. But I don’t,” she protested, her tone mocking.

He glared at her, and she glared right back for several moments, then her brows drew down and her eyes shifted as though she was truly seeing him for the first time since he entered her cell.

“What’s got you all worked up, Marcus? It can’t just be my missing assistant… I can understand your frustration that you haven’t been able to question her yet, but surely she will show up eventually,” she said contemplatively, and he stiffened involuntarily at her words.

“What’s going on?” she asked again, her voice rising with concern as she leaned forward slightly in her chair. “Has the Council voted? Is that what this is about?”

He shifted his gaze away from her, annoyed with himself when he realized that this _was_ exactly what this was about. Despite being prepared… Despite doing everything in his power to see that what was needed to be done to save the Ark was done, it had still affected him on a far greater level than he had expected. His mind kept replaying over and over the events of the last few hours, and he abruptly wanted out of this room and away from Anya and her knowing, judgmental gaze.

Had he truly come here to ask about Lexa Black, or had he come because some part of him felt like he deserved to be judged? He suspected it was the latter.

“The Council met on schedule,” he informed her, still not looking at her.

“And the motion for population reductions?” she prompted.

“Passed. Five in favor, three against.”

Anya grimaced at this, the edges of her mouth turning down, but otherwise didn’t physically react. She had to have been expecting as much.

“Only three against? Damn, I was hoping for a tie at least.”

They both knew Jaha wasn’t ready to go forward with population reductions just yet, despite the rumors and unrest that were already circulating around the Ark as more and more people fell ill. He still believed the ground would be proven safe, and in the case of a split Council decision, the Chancellor was given the tie breaking vote. It didn’t happen often, however, as a fully seated Council was normally nine members.

“Well, it looks like this whole investigation of yours has been a total waste of time after all… My vote wouldn’t have made a difference.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” he conceded, finally looking back at her. “We both know how persuasive you can be. You might have convinced one or two others to join you.”

“And the culling? When will it happen?” she asked, sounding incredibly tired as she did so.

He shook his head and she frowned, still watching him carefully.

“No, you don’t understand,” he said, the weight of the dreadful truth hanging heavy in the room, and he saw her stiffen as he spoke his final words before turning to leave.

“It’s already done.”

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Exhaustion hung over Lexa like a heavy blanket, slowing her steps and doing its best to dull her mind. Nevertheless, she forced herself to climb the gentle incline of the dropship’s ramp and enter the near darkness inside, eyes falling immediately upon the figures of Raven, Finn, Monty, and Jasper as they huddled at the communications station near the ship’s center, the warm glow of an electric lamp casting their shadows against the walls. Around the periphery of the room, the forms of a half dozen young Sky People could be seen lying down on makeshift beds, or swinging in poorly constructed hammocks made from the fabric and straps of what had once been dropship seats. Most of them were those who had been wounded in the earlier battle, and Lexa let her eyes pass over them carefully, making sure to look at each and every single one of them, studying their faces as best she could in the dark.

Lexa was no stranger to death and suffering. The burden of leadership was such that sometimes even when all the right decisions were made and everything went perfectly according to plan, people still inevitably bled and died. It would have been easy for her to stop caring long ago… To distance herself from the pain her people felt, allowing herself not to care so that it wouldn’t hurt as much. However, _Leksa kom Trikru_ had been taught from an early age that to do so was the worst kind of betrayal, worse even than making the hard decisions which caused such suffering in the first place. Anya had always said that a true leader took responsibility for the sacrifices that were made, and that to do otherwise was to dishonor that sacrifice. In all the years since she had been her second, Lexa had never forgotten that lesson, and so she did not avert her eyes now from the wounds of the Sky People around her.

One person in particular caught her attention, and Lexa crossed over to Atom where he lay on the floor, folding her legs beneath her and lowering herself to sit next to him. His handsome face was wan and pale, and his dark, thick hair slicked back and unruly from sweat. His left upper thigh was a mass of poorly fashioned bandages, a new one hastily knotted and tied around his leg over the others each time the blood seeped through. He was awake, and his feverish eyes rolled over to her when she sat.

“How are you feeling, Atom?” she asked, keeping her voice low and calm.

He wet his lips, one corner of his mouth turning upwards in a painful smile.

“Like hell,” he said, and her own lips twitched into a small, tired smile in response.

“Try to get some rest tonight,” she advised, wanting to comfort him but feeling inadequate to the task. “It won’t be long now before the rest of the Ark comes down, and they will have much better medical supplies than we have here. You’ll be back up on both feet soon enough.”

“That’s a nice thought, but I’m sure they won’t want to use their precious medical supplies on the likes of us,” he said weakly, frowning and looking away from her, his eyes now fixed on the wall beside him.

_The likes of us…_

His words made her recall something Murphy had said earlier. When she had accused him of being the only one in camp who would possibly try to have her killed, he had laughed and reminded her that everyone in the camp, every one of the hundred, were convicted criminals. Despite their youth, some of them had done terrible things to be imprisoned. Lexa hadn’t spent much time wondering about the reasons for each of their sentences, but she did so now. Did those still on the Ark view these youngsters down here on the surface as expendable? The thought made her grit her teeth. These were Clarke’s people… Clarke’s friends. Would the rest of the Sky People really refuse to help heal their own wounded? Atom seemed certain that they wouldn’t be eager to help _him_.

“If they won’t help you willingly, then I will just have to make them,” she said, iron determination in her voice.

Atom looked back up at her and there was a feverish intensity in his eyes. His sweating was increasing, and she now suspected that he did indeed have a fever. His wound was serious and he was still losing blood, and no one in this camp was a true healer. She felt her concern for him growing.

“Maybe we don’t deserve it… Maybe I don’t deserve it,” he said, his voice soft and shaky and very different from the few other times she had heard him speak. She sensed that he wasn’t really completely there with her, but that he was living partly in his own mind in this moment, the loss of blood and his fever at work within him.

“I told them it was an accident,” he continued after a pause, whispering to her now as though making a confession, his eyes seeming to focus through her rather than on her.

“It _wasn’t_ an accident… I knew exactly what would happen. I was just so angry! I saw the machinery, and he was right there. I don’t know why I did it… I pushed him. I pushed him right into it. There was so much blood, I couldn’t believe how much blood there was.”

He was shaking slightly, though whether it was from his growing fever or the terrible memory he was reliving, she didn’t know. Lexa didn’t say anything, just let him continue to speak. Whatever it was he had done to be put in prison, it was clearly haunting him now.

“He lost his hand, part of his arm. The machine ripped it right off. I told them all it was an accident, but the foreman, he _knew_ what I had done. They told me I would probably be pardoned when I turned eighteen… I don’t deserve to be pardoned. I wanted him dead… I _deserve_ to die down here.”

His voice trailed off, and his head shifted away from her again, his whole body slumping as though suddenly exhausted.

She thought over what he had just said. Atom made sense to her now. In the short time she had known him, he had struck her as a careful, thoughtful young man. He thought about things just a few seconds longer than everyone else before acting. That was one of the reasons why she had wanted him along when they searched for _Trikru_. If what he told her was true, then this was likely a very conscious decision on his part. His temper had led him to almost kill a man in the past, and he regretted it so much that he now kept it tightly under control at all times.

“The things we have done… they are but pieces of who we are. They are not the whole,” she told him, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. Atom looked back up at her, his eyes wide on hers, a hint of desperation in them.

“You are more than that one act. You saved lives today, fighting as you did. There are people here who live now because you put yourself in danger for them. You do not _deserve_ death, Atom. Death doesn’t care if we or anyone else think it is deserved. Plenty of people who have done terrible things live to an old age, while innocent children die moments after they are born. Do you think they worried themselves over whether or not they deserved to die?”

Lexa paused, her thought turning to her own death not a week before. Had her death been deserved? She had never thought of it in those terms. Her people were accustom to death, and in general had become much more practical about it than the Sky People seemed to be. As the Commander, she had long ago accepted that she would die young, and probably violently. In that way, her death at Titus’ hands had not been wholly unexpected.

The Sky People were different, however. She remembered her many conversations with Clarke before the attack on the Mountain. Clarke had often blamed herself for the deaths of others, even when she had done everything possible to prevent it. _Skaikru_ had ideas about the fairness, the _rightness_ of who died and who didn’t. However, anyone who grew up and lived in this harsh world learned at a young age that none of that mattered. Death came when it came. All one could do was fight to survive and protect those you cared about as best you could. Trying to find a higher purpose or meaning behind who lived and who died in the end was a waste of energy.

“Sleep now, Atom,” she said finally, squeezing his shoulder once more before standing. He nodded tiredly and closed his eyes, a bit calmer after his confession of his crime and her response to it.

Lexa crossed the room to the others, joining them at the communications post, and she felt Finn’s eyes on her as she did. When she met his gaze, he gave her a sad smile and nodded to her. She frowned slightly and nodded back, a bit surprised by the lack of anger she sensed in him. She hadn’t spoken to him since their return, and she’d expected him to complain about her rough treatment of him earlier. That he instead seemed to have accepted it was a welcome relief. It was far too late in the night and she didn’t have the energy right now to deal with Finn being difficult.

“Any success?” she asked.

“No, nothing yet,” Raven replied, the young woman not even glancing up from the slight adjustments she was making with her hands to a series of small dials.

“I don’t understand… You said the radio was fixed an hour ago! Why can’t the Ark hear us?” Jasper grumbled impatiently, and his words earned him a pair of frustrated glares, one from Raven and the other from his friend Monty.

 “We’re not placing a phone call on the Ark’s comm system here, Jasper,” Monty said with some annoyance, answering so that Raven wouldn’t have to. “We’re trying to talk to a space station in orbit around the planet… It’s not as straightforward as just fixing a radio.”

“I don’t understand,” Jasper admitted, and Lexa had to agree with him, though she did so silently.

“The Ark has to be somewhere where our signal can reach it,” Raven explained, glancing up at them all. Her eyes settled on Lexa for a brief moment before sliding away to look at Jasper.

“I’m bouncing our signal off of any remaining satellites that come within range, but there just aren’t many of them left, and it’s hit and miss. The Ark has to be in just the right place at the right time. Once they know we’re trying to talk to them, there’s a bunch of things they can do on their end to help give us more coverage, but right now we’re just shouting in the dark, hoping they’ll eventually hear us.”

Lexa sighed tiredly. She needed sleep if she was going to be of any use the next day. She was physically drained from the battle, the rescue mission, and from the persistent lack of good food and sleep for far too many days. Her presence here would not help them contact the Ark faster.

“Wake me if anything changes,” she ordered softly, a bit of her exhaustion creeping into her voice as she turned to leave.

“We will,” Finn reassured her quickly, his words earning him a brief sidelong glance from Raven before she turned back to her adjustments.

As Lexa walked away, she heard Raven making the same repetitive calls she had been making at various intervals for the past hour. This time, however, when she stopped broadcasting, the radio gave a sharp crackle and hiss, then an aggravated voice loudly answered.

_“Who is this? You are on an emergency Ark-wide channel… Cease broadcasting on this channel immediately!...”_

Lexa turned, and five sets of equally stunned, excited faces all stared at each other in the silence that followed.

Raven lifted the handset to her lips, a huge smile growing on her face, her eyes glowing with pride at her success.

“Yes! Ark Station, this is Raven Reyes… I’m calling from the ground. The hundred are alive. I repeat, the ground is survivable, and the hundred are _alive_!”

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The first hints of daylight had hardly begun to warm the horizon when Clarke felt herself being rudely shook awake, and she blinked up at the dark figure that hovered over her, her eyes blinking in bleary confusion.

“Clarke… Clarke! Wake up,” he repeated, his voice a low, urgent growl.

“Bellamy, what?... What’s going on?” she asked, sitting up in her bedroll and wincing when the chill morning air hit her fully.

“It’s Octavia, she’s missing!”

“What?!” Clarke said, abruptly coming fully awake, “What do you mean, missing?”

In terse words, he described to her what had happened, his face pale and worried in the low light. He’d woken several hours before sunrise and joined the sentries in their duties, as it was well known that _Trikru_ preferred to attack just before dawn when guards were at their most tired and the rest of the camp still asleep. It was unlikely that _Trikru_ had noticed their presence yet, but Bellamy had still wanted to be awake and ready just in case. When the hour of greatest danger had passed, he had returned and ducked his head in Octavia’s small tent to check on her, only to find her missing from her bedroll. A quick but thorough search of the camp had turned up nothing, and none of the sentries remembered seeing her since earlier that night. Panic was growing in his face and voice as he spoke, and Clarke struggled not to let her self be immediately swept up in his fearing the worst.

“Has anyone searched beyond the camp yet?” Clarke asked, not wanting to go immediately to the worst scenarios, but her mind already moving well ahead of her on that front. She was reminded of the conversation she and Octavia had shared that night, and of all the other conversations the two of them had had over the past few days. This disappearance now made her wonder if her suspicions hadn’t in fact been correct.

“No, not yet… We had dozens of sentries posted all night, though. I don’t know how it’s possible that she got past them unseen, but all of them swear they didn’t see her… Clarke, what if something happened to her? You know how she is. She wants to explore, and she wouldn’t hesitate to sneak past the guards if she wanted to. What if she got out beyond the camp and was taken by _Trikru_ scouts? Or, even worse, what if she was taken by Reapers? There’s been rumors coming out of _Trigeda_ lands for several years now that the Reapers have been growing bolder, more aggressive… What if that _isn’t_ just stories meant to frighten us and keep us away from their lands? She could already be a captive of Reapers right now!”

Bellamy’s eyes were troubled on hers as he spoke, all his worries tumbling out of him in a hurried rush. Clarke looked back at him, her mind working swiftly over all the facts and coming to its most logical conclusion.

“Bellamy… I think she might have left on her own,” she said finally, deciding to be blunt with her suspicions. This wasn’t the time to try to soften the blow and guard his feelings. Octavia might have chosen to leave of her own free will, but that didn’t mean that Bellamy’s other fears were completely unfounded. This was dangerous territory for a lone _Azgeda_ girl to be wandering in, especially with the Mountain so close.

“I don’t think your sister had any intention of ever returning to _Azgeda_ , and she had to know that last night was her best chance to leave undetected. She may be rash, but she’s also smart… _Trikru_ doesn’t know we are here yet, but they certainly will soon, and this is hostile territory. If we chase after her, it could put our entire mission at risk, and she knows that.”

Something within him seemed to crumple at her words, a look of deep sadness coming over his features. She’d spoken softly and chosen her words carefully, but there was really no easy way to tell a man that his sister had run away from him, abandoning her only family.

“I know,” he said finally, sighing once, “and I think you’re right. She came to me last night… She wanted to talk before going to sleep, she said. She hugged me, Clarke… Said she would always love me. I don’t know, I thought it was a bit strange, but I never thought…”

Bellamy’s voice trailed off and he swallowed and blinked rapidly several times. Clarke wanted to offer him some comforting words, but she couldn’t think of any that would be nearly adequate for the situation.

_I should have known what she was going to do… I should have figured it out last night when she gave me that damn bottle as a parting gift._

Clarke felt like an idiot. She’d often prided herself on being clever, and here she had missed something that now seemed so obvious it was painful. Octavia had likely been planning to do this from the very beginning of their journey. She loved her brother, but she was also desperate to be free, to live her own life, and she had to know that she would never be able to convince him to walk away from the Ice Nation. No, Bellamy would never leave _Azgeda_ , not even for his beloved sister, and she knew that.

“What do you want to do?” she asked, though she already knew what his answer would be.

“I’m going after her,” he answered immediately, his gaze already searching the trees and hills beyond.

She knew it was pointless, but she felt she still had to try to make the argument.

“Bellamy, I know she’s your sister, and I’m worried about her too, but she _chose_ to leave, and we still have an important mission here… _Trikru_ could arrive in force at any time. If you’re not here when they do…”

“I don’t care,” he snarled, clearly not interested in hearing her arguments. He started to walk away, and Clarke hastily gained her feet and started following him, not yet ready to let him destroy all their carefully laid plans without argument.

“If they find you in their territory alone, they will kill you!”

“If they find my sister, they will kill _her_! I’m not leaving her, Clarke!”

He was still moving through the camp and she kept following him, seeing the determined set of his shoulders and knowing that there would be no convincing him not to go through with his plan. When Bellamy reached the center of the camp, he began shouting to wake everyone who was still asleep, and very soon all of the warriors there were awake and on their feet, gathering around the young prince with alert expressions, their weapons ready in their hands.

“My sister has gone missing,” he announced, raising his voice so all could hear. Clarke stood behind his left shoulder, her lips drawn into a hard line as she let her mind think over all the possible plans and their outcomes. Bellamy was incredibly stubborn, and his devotion to his sister was absolute. In all likelihood, Octavia _was_ in very great danger, and he wouldn’t rest until he knew she was safe. That doing so put their mission here and the safety of the entire camp in direct risk mattered very little to him, she knew. If they had any hope of making peace with _Trikru_ , they would need to find her quickly and return undetected.

She listened as he asked for volunteers among the warriors to aid in the search, and she scanned the crowd to see the reactions of the assembled men and women. Many of them look deeply troubled by Octavia’s disappearance, but there were also quite a few looks of indifference. The girl’s antics over the past few days had not earned her a great deal of respect from many of the more seasoned warriors, and their mission here was very clear. This delegation was here to negotiate a treaty with _Trikru_. They were brave warriors one and all, but risking their lives in dangerous enemy territory, and with the threat of attack by Reapers added to it, was not something any of them were eager to do.

“What of our mission, _ai Hainofa_?” a critical voice called, and Clarke saw the crowd part to reveal Echo. “If the enemy finds you in their lands, or if they approach our camp and you are not here to meet with them, how will we possibly make peace then? We all know your foolish sister ran off on her own… I say we leave her to her fate.”

There were some grumbled agreements from others at her words, and Bellamy scowled at her angrily.

“We will be back before _Trikru_ even knows we are here,” he asserted confidently, and Clarke hoped that would be proven true.

“I won’t force any of you to help me,” he continued, ignoring Echo. “I know that this is not what you came for, but Octavia is one of us… If none of you are brave enough to come with me, then I will find her by myself.”

His words were meant to shame some of them into helping, and they certainly had an effect. A few of the warriors murmured amongst themselves and looked to be considering what he said, but still no one came forward.

“I will go with you,” Clarke finally said, suprising even herself. Octavia was a friend to her now, and as she had told her that very night, she _was_ one of them. If she abandoned her now, then what had all her words to her really meant? Bellamy looked at her with relief and appreciation, and she nodded to him with a small smile.

“Of course the traitor doesn’t care if our mission fails,” Echo said at her words, her tone scathing.

“Clarke may not be a warrior, but she is clearly braver than you,” Bellamy quickly said, glaring at the difficult woman. “Doesn’t it shame you that a healer is willing to risk her life to save one of our own, but you are not? Some warrior you are.”

A few uncomfortable laughs followed his insult, and Echo glanced around sharply, her face reddening.

“We will come with you as well, _ai Hainofa_ ,” a quiet voice said, and everyone turned to see who had spoken.

With some surprise, Clarke saw that it was Martek, his twin sister Riva standing by his side. The two siblings shared a pair of dark brown eyes and tawny, golden brown hair that hung thick and wild with small braids interwoven in it. They were young, near Bellamy’s age, and both very quiet. In fact, Clarke couldn’t remember ever having heard Riva speak. Instead, Martek seemed to do all their talking for them. They also seemed to keep mostly to themselves, which made their willingness to help find Octavia now somewhat unexpected.

“My sister is the best tracker here… She will find Octavia,” Martek asserted.

The twins moved to join Bellamy and Clarke, and the prince grasped both of their arms in thanks.

“Anyone else?” he asked loudly, but no one else stepped forward.

“Fine,” he said, turning to face Clarke and the twins, “We leave in five minutes. Grab what you need quickly… We need to hurry.”

The two warriors nodded and briskly headed off to gather their supplies and weapons, but Clarke stayed, stepping close to Bellamy and speaking in a low voice.

“What of the camp? If _Trikru_ finds them here while we are gone…”

“I’ll leave Echo in charge… I have to. You know she would just take charge anyways. If _Trikru_ does show up before we get back, she can negotiate with them on the Queen’s behalf. She’s the only one besides me who knows what terms the Queen has set.”

Clarke didn’t argue, but she was deeply troubled nevertheless. Things were quickly spinning out of control, and there was a great deal that could go wrong. She prayed Echo would set aside her own petty feelings and do what needed to be done to secure peace.

“Alright, I’ll grab my healing supplies and join you,” she said, and Bellamy smiled at her thankfully, his dark eyes still worried, though some of the earlier panic was receding now that they had a plan and were taking action to find his sister.

“Thank you, Clarke… I know you think I should let her go, that this is a mistake…”

“No,” she interrupted, shaking her head. “You’re right. Octavia is one of us… She may have left on her own, but that doesn’t mean _we_ should abandon her. We’ll find her, Bellamy… It will be okay.”

“We have to. If anything happens to her, Clarke…”

He swallowed and shook his head, and she reached out and placed a comforting hand on his arm, squeezing it lightly. It was hard to remember her own anger towards Bellamy when he was obviously so hurt and worried about his sister.

“We’ll find her,” she repeated.

Several minutes later, she and Bellamy joined the twins at the smoldering remains of their fire. The two warriors stood facing each other, their expressions serious as they carefully applied white war paint to each other’s faces. Clarke wanted to object to their martial preparations, and she opened her mouth to say something, but then she stopped herself. They were about to embark on a dangerous mission in enemy territory, and each step further into the forest would bring them closer to the threat of the Mountain. An _Azgeda’s_ white war paint was not only meant to be fearsome to their enemies, but was also protection from the specter of Death. It hid their faces and made it more difficult for Death to find them. Asking the two brave warriors to go into that forest and face the unknown without that protection would be unwise.

Once they were finished, the twins turned to face them, Martek pulling a small pack of supplies over his shoulders. They were all lightly equipped, as they needed to travel quickly and didn’t want to be weighted down.

“We’ll need to get out and away from all of the fresh tracks near camp, then spread out and search for the trail… Riva is the best tracker in the Ice Nation. She’ll find her,” he said, his sister still standing silent and serious beside him. Clarke was beginning to wonder if the young woman ever spoke at all.

The four _Skaibona_ left the camp together moments later in a single file with Riva at the front, their figures quickly swallowed up by the surrounding forest, the sun just barely beginning to rise through the treetops. Behind them, the _Azgeda_ encampment continued their preparations.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

It was midmorning before Lexa finally emerged from her tent. She wore her black, protective _Skaikru_ jacket and her pack and sword over her shoulders, just as she always did. The previous day’s exertions and the late night had taken their toll, and she’d needed the extra sleep before tackling today’s task. After what Raven had learned in her discussions with the Ark, she would need every bit of her energy for today’s mission.

When she joined the others, she saw that the chosen party was already beginning to assemble and get ready, a certain air of nervous excitement on their faces. Of course, everyone in camp had heard that they had made contact with the Ark in the early morning hours of the night, and a palpable sense of relief now permeated the camp. There was a sense among them that maybe now help was soon to arrive, and despite the continued risk of attack, everyone was much more optimistic and hopeful than they had been the day before.

After giving a few directions, Lexa left them to their preparations and entered the dropship, hoping to find Wells there. Instead, she found a very tired looking Raven and Finn, both of them still huddled next to the radio. They had lost the signal with the Ark after only a couple hours, and clearly Raven had not rested long before waking and trying to regain a good communications connection with the Ark once more.

“Where’s Wells?” Lexa asked, and Finn looked up at the sound of her voice.

“He’s outside,” he said, and she frowned at him in confusion.

“Outside?”

Finn nodded, his expression solemn.

“Yes, outside the camp.”

Lexa opened her mouth to ask him why, but his eyes flickered past her and she followed his gaze, a sudden, terrible understanding hitting her when she saw the place that was now empty. She didn’t say anything more, but instead turned and left, heading towards the wooden gate, seeing as she approached that it was cracked open with several apprehensive young Sky People standing ready to close it if any trouble should appear. She slipped through them without a word and followed the outside edge of the wall, travelling several dozen feet around the camp. She found Wells there, exactly where she had expected to find him, a short, makeshift shovel still held in his hands as he stared down at the graves at his feet. Five piles of freshly turned earth stood in a rough line, a newer, sixth pile now added at the end, its wet soil darker than the rest.

“Atom died this morning,” Wells said, his voice flat and emotionless.

She didn’t say anything, suddenly having to swallow around the emotions in her own throat. Lexa remembered the feverish intensity in Atom’s eyes as he had confessed his crimes to her that night, and she wondered if a part of him hadn’t somehow sensed that he would soon die. Had speaking his fear and shame out loud to her given the brave young man some measure of peace before death? She hoped that it had.

“We did everything we could for him,” she said finally, and Wells turned to look at her, his dark features revealing much more sadness than his earlier words had. He had dug each one of these graves with his own hands, refusing anyone’s help. It didn’t make much sense to her – her own people burned their dead – but Wells and the other Sky People seemed to draw some comfort from the idea of returning their bodies to the ground. Compared to being expelled into the cold emptiness of space, burial within the earth must seem vastly preferable.

“I know,” he agreed after a moment, looking back down at the graves. “Are you leaving soon?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“How long do you think it will take to find it?”

“There’s no way to know… Perhaps several hours. If the Ark is right, then the supply depot must not be far, but if it did survive untouched, then it’s been hidden successfully for many years. It may take some time to uncover it. Then, we still have to bring everything we find back. It’s possible we won’t return until tomorrow.”

He nodded at this, and she stepped forward to stand at his side, concerned by the sadness and despair she could sense in him. Atom’s death, and the deaths of all the others, saddened her greatly, but she had long since learned that she couldn’t afford to dwell in her sadness, not if she wanted to keep others from dying as well. Wells was young, and in many ways he reminded her a great deal of Clarke. She was suddenly very glad that Clarke had had such a friend as Wells… The young man would have been more than worthy of her friendship.

“Just… be careful, Black,” he said, looking sideways at her. “I know we need those supplies, but I really don’t want to dig anymore graves today. Or ever again, for that matter.”

“We’ll be fine. I’m bringing our best fighters and we’ll be ready if they do attack. It’s the camp I’m more worried about… You need to be cautious, Wells. Lincoln warned us that Reapers are capable of some strategy. If they notice the camp has fewer defenders, they will likely attack and try to overwhelm you.”

They spoke together softly for several more minutes as they stood looking down at the graves, each sharing their plans and contingencies so that the other might be prepared in the case of the unexpected. Once Lexa was assured that Wells had everything well in hand, they walked together slowly back to the gate. When they entered, they were met immediately by the Sky People whom she had chosen for the supply mission, all of them now fully equipped and ready to depart.

“Aden?” she called, and the boy stepped forward, his spear gripped in his hands and eyes bright and alert.

“You lead,” she ordered, and the boy’s face flushed red with pride and excitement at being given the important task. She turned to address the others.

“As for the rest of you… We stay together. Move quickly, but watch your step. Reapers could be anywhere in these woods. We must be fast and silent if we want to avoid a fight. Once we find the supply cache, we will gather what we can find and return as quickly as possible. Keep your eyes alert and your weapons ready.”

The serious faces of more than a dozen young Sky People looked back at her, some nervousness showing at the dangers that waited for them outside the safety of the camp’s walls. She watched them each carefully and was reassured by the underlying courage she saw there. These were the camp’s best and most trustworthy fighters, and she was confident they were equal to the task.

“Let’s move out.”

 

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_Author’s Note:_

_Guys… So much is going to happen in the next couple chapters. You better strap yourselves in. God bless Octavia and her determination to be free to live her own life on her own terms! Lots of different threads are coming together now. It’s going to be messy and very awesome (or at least, I hope so)!_

_Thanks for sticking with me, I appreciate everyone who has been so great and supportive. I can’t wait for what’s coming up next!  =)_

_-FlyUpInSky_


	16. Auribus Teneo Lupum

_Author's Note:_

_Hey everybody, sorry to go dark on you for so long there, I know it's been a longer wait than usual for this next chapter. Had some craziness happen last week, and once the dust settled it just took me a while to get back in the proper frame of mind for writing. Hope you enjoy the chapter now that it's finally here! Thanks for reading this slow burn monstrosity! :)_

_-FlyUpInSky_

 

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The forms of the four _Azgedakru_ slipped through the dark, leafy green of the forest like pale ghosts, their eyes alert and constantly searching the terrain around them. These were not their lands. Every moment here felt a trespass; every step they took bringing them deeper into the shadow of the Mountain and all its whispered of terrors. As the sun rose higher overhead and announced the arrival of midday, they reached a small, twisting stream of icy cold water, and the figures stopped briefly to refill their water skins and wash the sweat from their faces.

Clarke combed her damp fingers through her hair, feeling the slow, aching exhaustion stealing over her body and glad for the opportunity to rest – even if it was only for a few brief moments. She was missing her horse, but in all she was doing far better at keeping up with the three warriors than she would have thought. The past week of sunshine, exercise and good food had worked wonders for her bedraggled body, but she was still far weaker and tired more quickly than she would have wished. If this search went on too long, she worried that her body wouldn’t be able to keep up. Her mind might be sharp, determined and willing, but muscles starved and atrophied from six months of imprisonment might not be up to the task regardless.

“This is taking too long,” Bellamy grumbled, unknowingly echoing her own internal thoughts, his gaze impatiently searching the forest around them. “Perhaps we _should_ have taken the horses.”

“It is difficult to track from horseback, _ai Hainofa_ ,” Martek reminded him, sharing a quick glance with his twin sister that could have been annoyance.

Bellamy scowled at this, but otherwise didn’t reply. They had already discussed the issue of taking horses before they left the camp. Despite the potential for added speed, both twins had argued strongly against it and urged them to go on foot, and both Clarke and Bellamy had had to agree that their logic was sound. Octavia was also on foot and her trail would likely go where horses could not easily follow. Also, horses were both large and painfully loud in the forest, and would make avoiding being spotted by _Trikru_ scouts just that much harder. Instead, they had left the horses behind and set out on foot from camp, and after a brief search, Riva had quickly found Octavia’s trail. From that moment on, they had been setting a truly punishing pace in pursuit. They were all well aware that the younger girl likely had a sizeable lead on them, and they would need to hurry if they had any hopes of catching up before nightfall.

“It’s too late to worry about it at this point, Bellamy. Going back for horses now would only widen the gap… Besides, as fast as we’ve been going, we must be gaining on her, right?” Clarke said, looking to Riva when she asked the question.

The young woman didn’t speak, but she did meet Clarke’s gaze and nodded confidently, her tanned face betraying nothing of her inner thoughts.

“We _are_ getting closer,” Martek agreed, speaking for his sister once again, “but she still has at least a couple hours’ lead… She’s moving surprisingly fast for someone untrained.”

Clarke nodded at his words, and not for the first time that day, she wondered at the interesting dynamic between the two siblings. She had yet to hear Riva speak… Despite that, the twins seemed to communicated quite well non-verbally, and if words needed to be said, the sister seemed comfortable letting her brother do the talking. Was she just shy, then? Somehow, the word “shy” did not seem to fit the intimidating, fearsome young woman before her, and Clarke wondered if maybe she wasn’t truly a mute and physically incapable of speech after all. She wanted to ask the twins more questions about themselves, to learn what had motivated them to offer their help and come along on this dangerous mission, but she soon lost the opportunity, as the warriors regained their feet and readied themselves to continue on. Once they started walking again, Clarke no longer had the breath for conversation, and instead focused on following as quickly and silently as her body and skills would allow.

Not much longer later, the trail they followed suddenly grew confused and jumbled, and the slim form of Riva in the lead abruptly stopped and studied the ground with a silent, intent frown.

“What is it? Why are you stopping?” Bellamy asked impatiently, crowding close to Riva’s shoulder and trying to look exactly where she was looking.

After leaving their encampment in haste early that morning, the young woman had found Octavia’s trail almost immediately and had since led them quickly and unerringly through the hostile woods, stopping only once or twice to find the trail again when it was briefly lost. This time seemed different, however, and her stoic face betrayed a hint of worry behind its white war paint as she looked at the upturned tufts of ground and crushed plants before them.

Riva did not answer the prince’s questions, but instead turned and looked to her own brother who had also stepped forward to join them. She pointed to several indents in the soft earth that could have been footprints, and gestured towards the broken stalks of ferns and crushed grass. Martek nodded swiftly, his face solemn with understanding. Though he had spoken only of his sister’s superior talents at tracking, it had quickly become obvious that he himself was also a skilled tracker, and he was clearly seeing the same thing that was worrying her.

“Your sister’s trail is joined by several others,” he said, in answer to Bellamy’s questions, “and it looks like there was some kind of struggle.”

Bellamy looked dismayed at this news, his eyes widening as he turned and tried to make sense of the subtle signals imprinted on the ground before them. This dark, wet forest with its lush undergrowth and towering trees was far different from the lands of _Azgeda_ to the north, where sparse woodlands and rocky plains often dominated. Bellamy could spot an obvious deer trail here as easily as the next hunter, of course, but he was not as practiced at reading subtle signs in the plants and soft earth as the two siblings were.

“Was she taken?” Clarke asked quickly, stepping forward to join the other three, her gaze fierce on the twins.

There were no bodies to be seen, and that could only mean one thing in her estimation. Whoever it was that had met Octavia here in the woods, either she had escaped them or become their prisoner. Either way, the girl was clearly in immediate danger and there was little time to waste. There were several more seconds of silence as Riva searched the ground around them, then she surprised them all by actually speaking, her brown eyes meeting Clarke’s.

“She fought them off, but she was chased… That way,” the young woman said, pointing to indicate the way.

If Bellamy was annoyed that she chose to respond to Clarke’s question but not to his earlier ones, he didn’t show it, and she wondered if he had noticed it in the same way she had. Did Riva dislike the prince? Or was there another reason she had finally decided to speak to her, but not him? As they picked up the trail once more, she felt her curiosity about the strange twins only growing with every moment she spent in their company.

Now, as they hurried through the forest at an even quicker pace than before, Clarke was left with nothing to do but worry, breathe, and focus on not falling behind. As worrying had the added benefit of distracting her mind from just how tired and sore her body was becoming, she let herself fall deeper into her own thoughts and plans.

Any relief she had initially felt at the news that Octavia had escaped was replaced almost immediately by her relentless pragmatism… This trail was hours old. Whatever had happened here, it had surely taken place some time ago. Octavia may have avoided initial capture and been able to flee, but Clarke doubted she would have been able to escape her pursuers for long in these unfamiliar woods. Though she admired the other girl’s spirit and stubborn determination to be free, it had still been incredibly foolish of her to wander blindly into such dangerous lands alone. Octavia may not wear the scars that marked her as _Azgeda_ , but until she could exchange all her clothes and belongings, it would be obvious to anyone who saw her here that she did not belong. As much as Clarke dreaded being proven right, she knew there was a good chance that Octavia was either already dead by _Trikru_ hands, or had been taken by the Reapers.

_If Octavia has been killed by Trikru, there will be no convincing Bellamy not to take his revenge… If I don’t stop him, this entire peace mission could be over before it has even started!_

The thought chilled her, and though half of her mind was occupied with keeping up with Bellamy and the twins as they raced through the forest, the other half was busy making plans for the worst. The further they travelled into _Trigeda_ lands, the more she felt that this entire effort to find and recover Octavia was a huge mistake. There was simply too much that could go wrong… Too many ways to blunder and destroy any chance for peace with _Trikru_ before negotiations had even begun. She now wished she had tried harder that morning to convince Bellamy to wait and not immediately chase after Octavia. Once the peace talks had begun in earnest, they could have asked the Woods Clan for help locating his sister. That could have taken many days, however, and short of tying him up for days on end, she doubted she could have kept the stubborn prince from going after his sister eventually.

_Damnit, Octavia… You had to know your brother would never let you leave. Why couldn’t you just have waited a few more days?_

Of course, it was no use wishing the situation was different. While a prisoner of the Ice Queen, she had learned not to fixate overmuch on things that couldn’t be changed, but instead to focus on what could be done in the here and now. Octavia was in danger. They would either find her alive, or they wouldn’t. She needed to keep Bellamy from doing anything that endangered their hopes for peace, and she needed to protect the Sky Born from whatever unsavory plans Echo and the Ice Queen might have for them. Everything else was inconsequential. As Clarke pondered these truths, a new feeling came over her. For perhaps the first time since her imprisonment, it was as though her mind and soul were finally coming fully alive, and she felt present and awake in a way she hadn’t for many months.

Her people were counting on her, and she would do whatever it took to keep them safe… If that meant she had to challenge the Ice Queen, Echo, and even Bellamy himself, then so be it.

Clarke and the three _Skaibona_ warriors continued on their way, their urgency growing with every step along the trail, the likelihood of finding Octavia safe and uninjured diminishing with every hour that passed. Overhead, the sun arced slowly across the sky, its path as inexorable and relentless as time itself.

In the distance, the Mountain loomed nearer.

 

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“This has to be it,” Lexa said to Aden, searching the map spread out on the forest floor in front of them, then glancing around the large clearing where they currently knelt. Spread out in a rough circle around her, the young _Skaikru_ she had chosen for this supply mission eyed the woods beyond nervously, fingers gripping their weapons, clothes growing damp from kneeling in the thick yellow grass. Nearby, several stone ruins dotted the landscape and small trees and bushes grew in small clumps, otherwise the large meadow was relatively clear and open. The map they were using was old, and therefore one couldn’t depend on the fine details it portrayed, but the hills and mountains had not changed greatly in a hundred years, and she was relatively certain that this was near the location of the hidden depot. Now they simply needed to find it and discover a way inside.

Folding up the map, Lexa ordered the young Sky People to spread out in groups of two and search for the entrance, cautioning them to stay in eyesight and not open the vault on their own. She would have preferred not to separate everyone like this, but she didn’t have much choice. If everything Lincoln had told her about the Reapers was true, every moment they spent outside the safety of the camp’s walls only increased the risk, and they needed to find this supply cache quickly.

“Let’s go, Aden,” she said, once she had carefully stored the map in her pack and regained her feet. Together, they joined the others in searching the surrounding open area, pushing aside clumps of brush and grass and combing carefully through any rubble they found. Not long passed before raised voices caught their attention, and they followed the voices to find most of the others already there.

“We found it!” a tall girl with long, dark hair said excitedly, and Lexa felt a wash of relief at the good news.

“Well done… It’s Roma, right?” she confirmed, recognizing the tall, thin young woman as the same one who had saved her life during the attack on the dropship. Her spear had killed the last Reaper just in time, and Lexa hadn’t forgotten the fact that she owed this girl her life.

“Yeah… Well, actually, it was Diggs here who found it,” the girl said with a smile, digging her elbow into the sullen, brown haired boy who stood by her side.

The entrance was well concealed under a large metal grate that had been mostly covered by a thick layer of dirt and grass, and she was impressed that the pair had found it so quickly. The large grate flipped open with a heavy thud and revealed a round door, which, from the looks of it, hadn’t been touched in some time. Its wheeled handle and solid hinges looked rusted and worn, and she wondered briefly if the door would even open after all this time locked shut. After a moment’s consideration, she called Jones forward to apply his muscles to the task, thinking that the large young man probably had the best chance of success. Grinning at the challenge, Jones rubbed his hands together briskly, then strained and swore as he wrenched at the round handle for several long seconds before it finally turned and cranked loose. Once it was unlocked the round door swung open with the painful groan of tortured metal, revealing an ominous, pitch black hole in the ground, the top edges of a ladder visible in the bright sunlight.

“Well… shit. That looks scary,” Jones remarked, peering down into the darkness. He looked back up at them all, a wry smile on his broad, cheerful face. “Any volunteers?”

There was a smattering of nervous laughter at this and even a few swear words in reply, but Lexa didn’t let her own amusement show on her face. She doubted there was anything truly dangerous within the vault, but the fear of the unknown was a powerful thing.

“I’ll go,” John Mbege said.

Ever since he had been accused of cowardice the day before, he had seemed eager to show that he wasn’t afraid of anything. He stepped up to the hole with an eager smile, and Lexa pulled free the flashlight still clipped to the front of her jacket and handed it over to him.

“Here, you’ll need this. When you get down there, just tell us what you see. If it looks safe, we’ll be right behind you.”

John nodded bravely and took the flashlight, then put his foot on the first rung of the ladder and began to lower himself down. When his head was about to disappear under the ledge, he threw a cocky grin in Jones’ direction.

“Just so you know,” he said to the other boy, “this means I have first dibs on anything I find down there!”

“The hell you do!” Jones swore back, scowling. They could all hear John’s laughter as he continued to descend, and Lexa leaned over the entrance to watch his progress. When he reached the bottom, the light of the flashlight flickered briefly in every direction, then stopped as he looked back up at them with a shrug.

“Looks fine… Kind of empty, actually,” he shouted upwards.

Lexa thought quickly, considering several plans for how to proceed before deciding on what seemed like the best one.

“Alright, everyone is going in. Let’s not waste any time... The sooner we get these supplies and get back to the dropship, the better.”

She didn’t want to leave anyone up on the surface where they could be discovered by Reapers, not even as lookouts. They would all be safest staying together and exploring the depot. They could even seal the entrance behind them and spend the night inside if necessary. Evening was fast approaching, and it would be unwise to be caught out in the forest at night with Reapers on the prowl.

Though they spent several minutes making some rough torches to supplement the few flashlights they had amongst them, very quickly all of the Sky People had descended the ladder and joined John in the cool, stale depths of the ancient vault.

“Damn, it’s wet down here,” Miller muttered to no one in particular when he landed next to Lexa, a note of concern in his voice as he looked around him. “That’s not good… If this much moisture got inside, it might have ruined the supplies.”

Lexa frowned at his words, thinking it a smart observation. Miller didn’t talk much, but when he did, he revealed a keen intelligence and a clever mind. He wasn’t smart in the same way Raven and Monty were, of course. Instead, he had the kind of real world intelligence that her own people often described as being “smart on the trail”. He was exactly the kind of person you wanted at your back when things got difficult, and she wondered what, exactly, he had done on the Ark to be imprisoned.

After her recent discussions with both Murphy and Atom, she found herself wondering more and more about the pasts of all those who had come down on the dropship. Lexa glanced around her at all the eager young faces in the dark, many of them now looking back at her and waiting for her instructions on what to do next, and she couldn’t help but wonder if one of them was her mystery enemy… Was one of the people she was just beginning to trust and depend on plotting her death even now? It was a disheartening thought, and it was a struggle not to be reminded of Titus’ betrayal. She didn’t want to think that any of these young men or women wanted her dead, but after what had happened during the attack she couldn’t discount the possibility. She would need to keep her guard up even more from now on, and also keep Aden close. If someone wanted to get to her, then Aden was an obvious target as well. The very thought made her blood run cold.

Flashlights came on and torches were lit, and it was like stepping into a different world. Around them was a place that had likely been untouched by anything other than time for nearly a hundred years, and a sense of curiosity and excitement filled the group as they took in their surroundings. With a quick word of caution, Lexa let the teens go to work, not really needing to give them any instructions now. Lost and unfamiliar they may be in the woods, but here, amongst the dank corridor’s and rusted technology of the forgotten vault, they were clearly in their element.

“Do you think there are really weapons down here?” Aden asked once the others had scattered and they were mostly alone, a note of uncertainty in his voice.

“There must be,” she confirmed, thinking over the fact that when her warriors had attacked the dropship in their own reality, the young Sky People had possessed working firearms. Clearly those had not come down with them, she now knew. They must have gotten those weapons from somewhere, and it seemed likely that they had come from this place.

“But… _Heda_ , we aren’t going to actually use them, are we?” he asked.

Lexa exhaled, the worry in his voice echoing her own internal struggle. Firearms were strictly forbidden among the Clans. Not only because of the curse of the Mountain – though Lexa had personally never put much stock in those superstitions – but because the threat of the Entity as well. Their religion taught that the Entity was the enemy of all humanity, and it was known to thrive on technology. It needed it to exist and grow more powerful, and therefore using any technology at all, even firearms, could be incredibly dangerous, as it might draw its unwanted attention. That Titus had willingly committed such sacrilege as to use a pistol to kill her had been a frightful shock, one that was in many ways more difficult to comprehend than his betraying her. Even now Lexa was still choosing to ignore the fact that she herself was carrying one of the forbidden weapons in the pack she always wore on her back.

The time was fast approaching when she would no longer be able to just ignore this dilemma, however. The situation they found themselves in was extremely precarious, and this might just be a risk that they needed to take… With everything she had learned so far, she couldn’t even be certain that the Entity _existed_ in this reality, and the young Sky People they sought to protect would need every advantage they could get to keep the Reapers at bay. Also, though it worried her to consider the full implications, she knew they would need to be able to project strength if they were ever going to convince the various Clans to deal with them seriously… _Trikru_ included. She knew very well that a strong show of force was often needed before peace could truly be established. That was exactly how she had forged the various alliances needed to form her Coalition, after all.

Of course, overshadowing everything was the greater threat of the Mountain Men to consider. With as many dangers as were surrounding them, if they continued as they were and something significant didn’t change, _Skaikru_ and their small camp would be quickly wiped off the map, whether it be from Mount Weather, Reapers, _Trikru_ , or some other unknown threat.

“I think we must,” she conceded finally, not shying away from his intent gaze. “They will need these weapons if they are to survive… and they do not share our beliefs. If we find weapons here, the others will use them no matter what you or I say. Besides, swords and spears alone will not be enough against the Mountain.”

Rather than argue, Aden surprised her by nodding, a knowing expression on his young face. Was he also beginning to question some of what they had been led to believe was true in their old life? She would need to speak with him soon about her various suspicions… Especially about the link between Polaris station and the Spirit, and all that this implied. Now was not the time or place, however.

“It will be alright, Aden,” she reassured him after a moment. Then, finally giving into the urge that had been growing since the moment she saw the worried look on his face, she allowed herself to reach over and ruffle his blond hair with one hand, the action feeling as familiar to her as breathing. The boy smiled and batted her hand away, smoothing his hair back down with his free hand. This was something she had done often on the Ark when he was sad or depressed, and though her brother had always acted like he hated it, she knew he secretly liked the gesture…

 _More memories from Lexa Black again,_ she realized.

Lexa frowned, disturbed by just how fully she had fell into old habits and ways of thinking from another life. The longer she and Aden spent in this reality, the more _real_ their lives and histories here felt. At times now, for brief moments she would forget that she wasn’t really Lexa Black at all… Or was she? The memories were there and growing stronger every day. She was here now in this world, and would perhaps never know anything _but_ this world again. As far as everyone else was concerned, she _was_ Lexa Black. Maybe it was time for her to accept that fully and embrace her life as it was now.

Of course, there was the small matter that she still didn’t really know _who_ Lexa Black was. Until she could remember all of her memories and past experiences, she couldn’t help but feel like an imposter who had stolen someone else’s clothes.

She and Aden didn’t speak any further on the issue of the weapons, but instead joined the others in their careful and thorough search of the supply depot, though it was quickly becoming obvious that any major supplies that had been there had long since been cleaned out. What remained did not look promising, but they continued to search nonetheless.

Above ground, unseen and unnoticed by those below, the sky began to darken early as gray clouds moved in from the east, a large and powerful storm fast approaching.

 

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Octavia flailed and kicked violently as her back hit the dirt, legs and bound hands scratching uselessly against the hard ground. The large figure of her captor loomed over her, his features cast completely in darkness as he was momentarily silhouetted by the light shining in from the entrance of the cave, and she battled to control her fear as he grabbed her roughly by her arm and dragged her deeper into the cavern, her shouts muffled by the cloth gag he had tied around her mouth. Her heart was hammering a million miles per hour in her chest, and her long hair was tangled with sweat, dirt and blood, its braids coming loose from the violence of the past few hours. She kept trying to fight him as he dragged her along, but the attempt was useless. Her ankle was swollen and wouldn’t accept her weight, and her legs were exhausted from her desperate flight through the woods. What had started out as the best, most exhilarating day of her young life had quickly turned into a nightmare from which she knew she couldn’t wake from.

Everything had gone terribly wrong.

As she was flung against a rough stone wall, her hands pulled up over her head and fitted with heavy metal shackles that led to single chain fixed securely to the rock, Octavia swore and cursed through her gag, not sure if the words were directed at her captor or herself. Her eyes glared hatred up at him in the dark, but if he was at all moved by her rage, then he did not show it. Her own emotions were so tangled that she hardly knew if it was fear or anger that now drove her to struggle defiantly against him

Just a few short hours ago, the only thought in her mind had been a desperate fear for her own life as she fled from a pack of Reapers through the forest. They had already almost caught her once, but by some combination of luck and ferocious tenacity, she had managed to break free of their initial hold and slipped into the forest, running and leaping through the underbrush with all the terrified speed and skill of a deer fleeing from a pack of ravenous wolves. She’d fled blindly through the woods, no coherent thought in her mind but to run as fast and far as she could, but even so she had been unable to outpace the monstrous men completely. Finally, after what felt like a very long time, she crested a small hill only to discover that it dropped off abruptly on the other side, and in her surprise she had taken a bad step and twisted her left ankle. The pain had caused her to lose her footing, and she had fallen gracelessly, rolling painfully down the sharp decline, slamming into small trees and rocks the whole way down. By the time she’d regained her senses at the bottom, the Reapers had cleared the ridge and spotted her there, savage howls rising from their throats as they saw that their prey was now within reach.

That was when he appeared, like some dark, angry phantom. He’d dropped from the trees and intercepted the first of the Reapers, a sword in each hand disappearing into both their guts at the same time. With agonized grunts and screams, the two cannibals had both fallen to their knees, inhuman faces still showing their shock at his sudden appearance even as they quickly bled out on the forest floor and died.

Octavia had quickly overcome her own surprise and managed to regain her feet, crying out in pain when she tried to place weight on her left foot. She’d looked down at her injured ankle, glad to see that there was no blood seeping through her boot, and by the time she’d looked up again, the _Trikru_ warrior – for a member of _Trigeda_ he must be – was right in front of her, his dark eyes cold and fearsome behind his masked face. She had gasped and lurched backwards, then cried out again as the pain lanced through her foot. More howling had erupted on the other side of the hill, and it was all the reminder she had needed that there were still more Reapers on her trail.

“Please,” she had gasped in _Trigedasleng_ , eyes finding his gaze and holding it, “Please, help me!”

His eyes had narrowed at her slightly accented words, and she’d been immediately struck by the intelligence she saw there. She should have spoken more carefully. A trained ear could hear the difference between many of the clans based on their dialect and accent alone, and he had clearly noticed that she didn’t sound quite like _Trikru_. He seemed to take her completely in, seeing all of her in a single, swift second. Perhaps it was the stress of the strange circumstances, but in that one second, she had suddenly felt as though he saw more of who she truly was in a single glance than any other person had before.

“ _Azgedakru_ ,” he had snarled, his voice a low growl.

He had no more than spoken when the howls of the other Reapers grew in volume, obviously getting closer. She had felt her fear growing. She couldn’t run… not anymore. If he refused to help her, she was as good as dead. The Reapers would take her and she would never be free again.

“No!” she denied quickly, “I mean… Yes, I was raised in _Azgeda_ , but I’m not… I don’t… I’m not _Azgedakru_ ,” she had argued, her own voice a defiant snarl as her mind scrambling to quickly come up with some reason, some explanation that would convince this man to help someone whom his people considered a bitter enemy.

“Help me,” she repeated stubbornly, the request so firm it was almost an order, not looking away from his eyes as he continued to study her.

She saw his eyes come to the decision a short moment later, and she couldn’t help but shrink back as he suddenly leapt closer and grabbed hold of her roughly, one hand yanking free the large knife strapped to her belt and flinging it out of reach. Before she knew what had happened, he had slung her over his shoulders and was darting quickly, but silently, through the brush, slipping further down the ravine she had fallen into. Twisting down some dark trails and sliding between several large boulders, he shoved her into a dark corner in the rocks, his heavy weight settling over hers and pinning her there, his large hand closing over her mouth to ensure that she didn’t make a single sound. She stared up at him with wide eyes, but he was not looking at her. Rather, he was searching the forest beyond, his breath fast but steady behind his mask. For several agonizing minutes they had listened as the Reapers thrashed through the underbrush searching for them. He had chosen his track well, however, and had left no boot prints for them to follow, and the space they crouched in was almost impossible to discern from among the rocks.

After much angry shouting, the sounds of the angry Reapers finally drifted away, however, they had remained frozen in their hiding spot for quite a while longer. The _Trikru_ warrior had not looked at her once the entire time, and had not removed his hand. After several minutes of complete silence but for birdsong and the rustling of branches in the breeze, she had moved restlessly against him, trying to wriggle free of his grasp and free her mouth. When his hand had moved away and he looked down at her, she had licked her dry lips and opened her mouth to speak.

“Thank yo-…”

Her words of thanks were interrupted when he swiftly yanked her down to the ground and on to her back, one knee pressed against her chest to pin her down while his hands worked to pull loose a spool of thick, stiff wire from his belt. Ignoring her protests, he had used the wire to bind her hands, then proceeded to thoroughly search her and the small pack she wore for more weapons. He had tucked her second, smaller knife into his boot and pulled her pack over his own shoulders, then pulled her to her feet. She’d stifled her groan of pain when her weight fell on her injured ankle again, but she hadn’t had to bear the discomfort long, as the man had immediately lifted her and slung her over his shoulders like a sack of grain once again, then started through the woods at a brisk pace.

It wasn’t until later that he had gagged her… She had been struggling continuously against his iron grip, and her muttered snarls, curses and protestations had slowly grown in volume, her fear of being discovered by the Reapers quickly being replaced by her more immediate wariness of what this man might have in store for her.

“Why are you doing this?” she had gasped angrily when he dropped her to the forest floor, pinning her down as he tore loose a strip of cloth and moved to tie it around her head and mouth.

Had he only saved her so that he might take her hostage himself? Clearly there was no convincing him that she wasn’t from _Azgeda_ , even if she didn’t wear the scars, but what use could he have for a lone _Azgeda_ girl?

“I’m not a threat to you… Just let me go!”

“Be quiet, unless you want them to find and kill us both,” he growled, shoving the cloth into her mouth and tying it down tightly.

He had ignored her indignant, furious glare as he again picked her up like she weighed nothing and began walking once more. Even with her awkward bulk weighing him down, the man had moved like a graceful panther through the forest, confident and sure of each step, his passage hardly making a sound. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but after what felt like over an hour of walking, they had reached a low ravine that led to a narrow cave entrance, and it was within that very cave that she now found herself.

Now shackled securely to the wall of the cave, her captor stepped back and away from her, and despite the low light, her eyes had finally adjusted enough to be able to make out his face. Wriggling like a fish on a hook, she rubbed her cheek and jaw against her shoulder, working the gag loose with some difficulty. Once it was clear of her mouth, she coughed and sputtered, her jaw aching from the strain and tongue uncomfortably dry.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked again, repeating her question from earlier, pleased when her voice came out strong and unafraid. He might have her captive and helpless, but she was damned if she was going to show him just how afraid she was. He regarded her quietly for a moment, then lifted his hand and removed his mask, his eyes solemn and intense on hers.

_He’s very handsome._

The stray thought caught her by surprise, and she was amazed that she was able to notice such useless details even in such an extreme circumstance as this. What did it matter if he was good looking? The man might have saved her from the Reapers earlier, but he clearly viewed her to be an enemy.

He still hadn’t spoken, but just continued to watch her silently, his expression stoic in the dark. Oddly enough, despite the dangerous situation she was in and the fact that he had taken her captive, she didn’t sense any malice in him. Rather, his gaze on her seemed thoughtful, as though he was trying to decide what to make of her, just as she was trying to decide what to make of him.

“You saved me earlier… Thank you for that,” she said after a moment when he still didn’t speak. Perhaps curses and angry words were not the best tactic to use. She wasn’t unaware of the fact that she was young and beautiful… If he had pitied her enough to help rescue her, then maybe he could be persuaded to set her free and let her continue on her way?

“Why don’t you just let me go? I’m just passing through… I’m not looking for any trouble, okay?” she coaxed, softening her voice somewhat. She wasn’t above begging and pleading if that is what it took to free herself. The walls of the cave seemed to close in around her, and the shackles on her wrist seemed to tighten like closing jaws. Sweat broke out on her forehead, and she was abruptly reminded of just how much she hated to be confined, to be locked up in tight spaces.

She needed to get out of here… She needed to be free. Like a fox caught in a trap, she would be willing to chew her own hands off if that’s what it took to escape.

“You are _Azgeda_ ,” he said finally, shaking his head slightly. “You should not have come here.”

He turned and started to walk away, and she pulled against her chains, causing them to rattle loudly, panic filling her at being left here helpless and chained.

“No! Wait… Please, just let me go!” she shouted after him, her distress now creeping into her voice.

He ignored her pleas, and his large form was quickly swallowed up by the sunlight beyond the cave’s entrance.

Screaming in furious, impotent rage, Octavia yanked repeatedly on the chains that bound her, twisting so that she could brace her good foot against the wall and pull with her entire body. Her angry shouts turned into a single sob that was quickly swallowed as she realized that the effort was useless. The chains were sturdy, and the large metal ring that was drilled into the stone was not budging. She was trapped here, her fate in the hands of the man who had captured her. At best, he intended to hand her over to his clan as a prisoner. At worst…

Well, there was no need to dwell on all the worst things he could do to her if he chose. Strangely, despite everything, she found that she didn’t really think he intended to harm her. He hadn’t been gentle, it was true, but he hadn’t been unnecessarily rough either, and she hadn’t sensed any eager cruelty in him. She was familiar with warriors of every sort and had met many among the fighters of the Ice Nation who reveled in the cruelties of war. He did not seem one of those ilk, and she prayed her hasty judgement of him was correct.

Exhausted, Octavia gave up her useless efforts after several minutes and slumped against the wall, willing herself to slow her breathing and remain calm. Shaking her wild hair from her face, she clenched her jaw and lifted her head, dark eyes narrow and focused as she looked to the cave’s only entrance, her resolve reforming and building within her. She might only get one chance to free herself. She would need to be ready to take that chance when it came. Taking a deep, slow breath, Octavia clenched her teeth into a silent, determined snarl.

When her captor next returned, she would be ready.

 

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The four _Skaibona_ stood over the hacked and mutilated corpses, their horrified eyes looking down at the red mess which stained the bright green grass and leaves in front of them. When they had first stumbled upon the bodies, Clarke’s eyes hadn’t immediately understood what they were seeing. It was like a large drawing seen from too close, the lines lacking coherent shape and meaning. Only after stepping back a few paces and refocusing one’s eyes could the shape of things become clear.

They were Reapers… Or at least, the twins seemed certain of that fact, and Clarke had to agree that what remained certainly didn’t look anything like anyone from _Trigeda_ she had ever seen. Behind the red blood and white paint that decorated their faces, their skin was heavily scarred and filled with metal piercings, and their hair and beards knotted and unkempt. Their visages were certainly alarming enough, but that wasn’t what was most horrifying. Not even the matching, gaping wounds in their lower chests were all that unusual, though surely that had been what had killed each of them. Clarke was a healer, and she was quite familiar with blood and bones, and had seen injuries that would turn the stomach of even the most hardened warrior.

No, what was so difficult to comprehend, and what had filled them each with such horror, was the fact that the men were both missing all of their limbs… They’d been hacked off – likely after their death, she surmised, judging from the relatively small amount of blood pooling at the ragged stumps – and the removed limbs were nowhere to be seen. That they were not to be found anywhere near the bloody, mangled torsos to which they belonged was almost certain, and they all knew the reason why.

The surviving Reapers had taken the body parts with them… to eat.

Reapers were cannibals. She knew that intellectually, of course, but seeing it first hand was another matter entirely. Whether the Reapers themselves killed these two over some dispute, or Octavia somehow managed to, or someone else entirely did the deed, clearly the others hadn’t wanted to let all that meat go to waste. Grown men were heavy and awkward to carry, so they had merely removed their limbs at the joints and left the rest behind.

Clarke felt the bile rise in the back of her throat, and she swallowed it back down stubbornly.

 “We need to find Octavia,” Bellamy said hoarsely, and it was like his words broke some sort of spell. Riva shook herself and turned away from the remains, moving to search the ground in a slowly widening ark, and Martek did the same on the opposite side.

“Could Octavia have done this? Killed them, I mean,” she asked, looking over at Bellamy. The initial shock and surprise she had felt as seeing the mutilated bodies and contemplating the cannibalism it implied was quickly dissipating. She felt her mind go to the calm, analytical place it normally went to when she was studying an injury, and she knelt beside one of the bodies, pointing one of the stomach wounds out to him.

“This looks like a sword wound to me. It’s probably what killed them. Could she have taken a sword with her?”

Bellamy frowned down at her thoughtfully, then shook his head, his jaw tense from the fear and worry that he was no doubt struggling to contain. Things were looking worse and worse for his sister, and she could only imagine how he must be feeling now.

“No,” he said, “She doesn’t have a sword, and even if she had stolen one from someone else, it wouldn’t have gone unnoticed for long.”

She had to agree. Their warriors weren’t in the habit of leaving their weapons just lying around, especially when they were camped on _Trigeda_ lands and only a few miles from the Mountain.

“Someone killed these men. Maybe she got her hands on one of their weapons,” Clarke suggested, climbing back up to her feet.

She didn’t want to say what they were all fearing… That the same Reapers who had cut the limbs off of their fallen comrades had also taken Octavia. They spent the next several minutes in tense silence, neither one speaking as they watched the twins work and tried to stay out of their way. For once that day, Bellamy didn’t pressure them with questions and demands, and she suspected it was because he feared what they were about to tell him.

“Lots of tracks all over… It’s a mess,” Martek admitted when he and his sister completed their search and rejoined them. “There were at least six or seven Reapers chasing Octavia. It looks like she tumbled down into this ravine… You can see where she fell there,” he added, pointing to an obvious trail of broken branches and crushed plants that led down the side of the hill to near where they now stood.

“So who killed these two? Was it her?” Clarke asked after a brief pause, glancing sideways at Bellamy as she did so, a bit surprised by his continued silence. It was unlike him. The prince’s face was pale but composed, and he was watching Martek speak with an intensity that was almost scary.

 _He’s preparing himself for the worst_ , Clarke realized, and she felt her own worry for Octavia rising within her.

“No, there was someone else here,” a soft voice replied, and Clarke’s gaze shifted to Riva. The young woman was not looking at her. Instead she was moving past them and further along the ravine, her eyes studying the ground carefully as she walked. They quickly fell into step behind her.

“He’s tall, but not overly heavy… He moves well. He knows what he’s doing in the forest. Here, you can see his trail coming in.” She pointed out a faint set of tracks off to the side, then pointed to another set of what looked like the same prints, these ones leaving noticeably deeper indentations in the soft mud. “And here, you can see where he picked up Octavia.”

“What?” Bellamy said, his silence suddenly broken at the mention of his sister’s name, “He was carrying her?”

“Yes. He killed those two, then carried her… This way,” she said softly, though she was still not looking at them, her gaze intent on the ground beneath her feet as she continued down the ravine.

It was incredible to watch her work… Clarke had no idea what the young woman was looking at most of the time, as the path they walked was mostly rocks and small stones and there were no discernable prints that she could see. Nevertheless, Riva led them slowly but surely along, her piercing eyes seeming to read hints and messages that the rest of them were blind to. At one point she slid between two large boulders and disappeared into a dark, narrow crawl space for several moments, then slipped back out and rejoined them without a word, a small smile on her face. She shared a triumphant glance with her brother, and Martek grinned as though she had said something very funny.

“They hid together,” he explained, and the excitement in his soft voice instantly filled Clarke with a sense of relief. “The Reapers walked right past them!”

“She escaped, then?” Bellamy asked urgently, “Where did she go next? If she was hiding here then she could be nearby!”

Martek looked to his sister and his twin shook her head once, frowning before turning back to the trail. She had the look of a hunting dog that had found its scent, however, and after almost a full day of watching her track Octavia through the forest, Clarke was beginning to be able to recognize when Riva was certain of where to go next.

“No, she didn’t leave on her own… Whoever this is that helped her, _ai Hainofa_ , he took your sister with him,” he said, his tone now more cautious then excited.

“Let’s get moving, then,” the prince growled, pushing past them both to follow Riva, his shoulders stiff with renewed determination and voice menacing.

“If that bastard has harmed my sister, when I catch up with him he’s going to _wish_ those Reapers had found him instead.”

 

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“Jackpot!” a voice shouted, the strange word echoing around the dark chambers of the hidden supply depot and causing all other scattered conversations to stop.

Lexa left the small side room she and Aden had been searching and strode quickly down the corridor with the _Natblida_ boy at her side, the flashlight pinned to her jacked showing the way. They re-entered the main chamber and followed the sounds of voices down another narrow corridor. Though the hall was almost completely empty, a series of large, rusted metal barrels lined one wall, and it was there that Miller stood triumphantly, his arm dripping with a strange, oily black substance up to his elbow. In his hand, the metal and composite of a rifle gleamed in the near darkness like the iridescent shell of a beetle, and Lexa drew in a surprised breath at the sight.

“It’s genius,” Miller explained with satisfaction, indicating the barrels with one hand. “It’s the only way to store them for a long time without worrying about them rusting… I don’t know why I didn’t think to check them earlier.”

She didn’t have to ask what he meant, as he quickly showed them all, flipping the lid on yet another barrel and reaching down into the dark, oily blackness and pulling out second, identical rifle. A quick search revealed that each of the barrels contained rifles just like those two, but that wasn’t all. At the base of each were several well-sealed canisters containing bullets and magazines, and once they had emptied all of the nearby barrels and spread out everything contained within on the floor, they found that they now had at least a couple dozen rifles and several hundred rounds of ammunition.

“Hell yeah!” someone shouted, “Those Reapers better watch their sorry asses now!”

“Damn right! Let’s slaughter those bitches!” another person added, and a round of exuberant laughter greeted the suggestion.

Lexa and Aden exchanged glances and watched the proceedings silently, observing as the excited teens jostled each other and picked up the weapons eagerly, clearly thrilled and relieved by this discovery. Aden himself seemed interested in the weapons, his young eyes looking them over with curiosity, and she realized he had probably never seen real firearms before. For her own part, Lexa felt the weight of the decision she had already made settling over her. Her hands clenched into tight fists at the thought of actually using one of the rifles before her, and it was almost as though she could hear the thunderous sound of the gunshot that had killed her echoing in the distance.

Wait… No, that was actual thunder, not a memory of her death, and Lexa wasn’t the only one to notice the sound.

Monroe appeared a few seconds later, emerging from the main chamber with a look of concern on her serious face.

“Hey, guys?...” she said uncertainly, pointing back over her shoulder towards the entrance with her thumb, “I think there might be a storm coming.”

Slightly relieved for the distraction despite herself, Lexa swept back into motion, her voice rising in an authoritative snap that wasn’t to be disobeyed.

“Everyone put the rifles down. Miller, I want a full search of every barrel in this place from top to bottom, and gather everything you find here. Make sure we didn’t miss anything. Nobody touches these weapons until I say so, is that understood?”

He nodded at her instructions, and she turned away as he started organizing the weapons, pulling them from the reluctant hands of those around him.

Though she had determined that using them was necessary, there was no doubt in her mind that these weapons were dangerous in the wrong hands. Memories of the massacre that _Skaikru_ had so easily committed still haunted her sleep, and it was sobering to think that such power could be held in two human hands. She would need to proceed carefully lest something equally terrible happen in this reality. Was this truly the correct path to follow? Despite all she had said to Aden earlier, she couldn’t help but feel some doubts.

Lexa wondered briefly what Clarke would suggest she do in this instance, but the answer came almost immediately. Despite all her hopeful words and constant arguments for peace, when faced with doing what was necessary to survive and protect her own people, she was just as ruthlessly practical as Lexa herself was. Clarke wouldn’t hesitate to use these weapons. Indeed, this was exactly what Clarke herself had done long before she and Lexa had even met.

A quick climb up the ladder revealed that Monroe had been correct. There was a storm approaching, and the evening sky was growing steadily darker as thick, angry clouds moved in from the southeast. Lexa studied the storm for a while before descending the ladder once more, and this time she carefully pulled the grate and door shut behind her, though she didn’t let the door close completely for fear of not being able to open it again. The heat and humidity of the past two days should have warned her that a storm was on its way. It looked like they would be spending the night here after all.

Sometime later, they all gathered in the main chamber and prepared to settle in for an early night, only one small light left in the center of the room to stave off the pitch blackness. Lexa found a clear patch of floor and took a seat with Aden, trying to get as comfortable as she could in the cold, wet darkness. Aden’s warmth at her side was welcome, but she was surprised a moment later when Miller and Jones approached and joined them. Jones’ large from was unmistakable despite not being able to see his face, and the sharp smell of the oil that had soaked into Miller’s sleeves from his search of the barrels gave his identity away as surely as if he had spoken. Miller slid down the wall to sit next to her, and Jones did the same next to Aden, and she cocked her head questioningly. Though he couldn’t see her expression, he must have caught the gesture, and she felt him shrug where their shoulders met.

“All things considered, it might be best you don’t sleep without someone watching your back, you know?” he said softly, and she felt Aden stiffen next to her at his words.

She had told Aden briefly about what had happened during the Reaper attack, and had even shared with him her suspicions that someone among the young Sky People might want her dead, but she supposed the boy had forgotten the threat during all the excitement of the day. Or perhaps, like her, he hoped that they were safe amongst these trusted few. Lexa knew better, however, and apparently so did Miller. She wished she could see his face so she could gauge his expression. Paranoia and suspicion rose within her like an ugly monster, insidious and pervasive. This was not her first time fearing betrayal from within, and she knew it was all too easy to start to distrust everyone without cause if she allowed herself to.

 _It can’t be either of them_ , she reminded herself.

During the fight, Miller had been one of those at the gate and Jones had been in the thick of the fighting. Whoever had thrown the rock had come from within the camp, and it was unlikely that they were among those she had brought along with her here… Still, Miller was correct. She needed to be careful. Even here, surrounded by others, murder could happen all too quickly and quietly in the dark.

Miller shuffled into an even more comfortable position beside her, then added as an afterthought, “Jones and I are taking turns. We flipped for it.”

“Yeah, and I have to stay awake first because Nate’s a rotten cheater,” Jones grumbled amiably, and since it was dark and she knew they couldn’t see her face, Lexa allowed herself to smile.

“I’ll take a turn!” Aden offered eagerly, not to be outdone by the older boys, and Lexa felt her smile grow even wider.

“Sure thing, short stack… You can have the second half of my shift,” Jones replied enthusiastically, and she both heard and felt Miller sigh with exasperation.

Lexa leaned her head back against the wall and let herself relax, closing her eyes. In the underground chamber around her, she listened to the soft lull of whispered conversations, the darkness making it seem much later than it actually was. Were it not for the storm, they probably would have had at least an hour or two more of daylight. As it was, there was little else that could be done in the black depths of the vault besides wait out the storm and catch up on some much needed rest.

Lexa Black fell asleep moments later, while outside the growing storm began to thunder and rage, lashing the trees with wind as lightning crackled through the sky.

A short ways distant, completely unaware of those hidden within the earth nearby, four _Azgedakru_ moved cautiously down a shallow ravine, their eyes focused ahead of them and not on the storm above. After travelling some ways, the narrow entrance to a cave came into view just as the swollen clouds overhead opened up, a deluge of rain pouring down on them and soaking their hair and clothes. The runoff quickly created a small stream which rushed past their feet, following the twisting ravine downhill and away from the cavern before them. Ignoring the fury of the storm around them, the warriors pulled their weapons free with deadly purpose, the white war paint on their faces running and dripping from the rain, forming pale teardrops that made them appear not sad, but terrifying.

“She is here,” the young warrior in the lead said, and the others nodded with fierce anticipation at her words, their eyes sharp and ready.

 The wind howled, the trees thrashed in agony, and the rain beat against their skin as they stood together for a moment more, each preparing themselves for whatever they might find within.

As one, they entered the cave.

 


	17. The Storm

_Author’s Note:_

_Hello friends! So, I’ve been sitting on this chapter for a while, and kind of just not satisfied with it for some reason, and just finally decided to set it free into the world and move on already so I can get to the next part of the story... Lol. Not really sure why this was so hard, as I normally don’t struggle like this, but I guess writer’s block had to happen to me sometime! Plus life has been crazy busy, so that didn’t help (damnit, life! Just leave me alone so I can write fanfiction all day long! Is that really too much to ask?)._

_Anyways, finally back to Clarke and company. Things are going to be a giant messy mess next chapter, so that should be a blast to write. Thanks for reading and I hope all of you kind readers are doing well! :)_

_-FlyUpInSky_

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During the first moments after they entered the cave the darkness was complete… Stifling. After a few more tense seconds during which they stood frozen and unmoving just inside the cave’s entrance, a flash of lightning lit the skies outside and its hot, white light flickered all around them, revealing a dirt floor cluttered with tumbled rocks and boulders, and jagged walls that immediately widened into a large, oblong chamber with a low ceiling. Clarke held her breath when things went dark once again, ears straining against the growing roar of the falling rain and the excited pulse of her own blood in her veins. Beside her, Bellamy took another two steps into the cavern, the soft gleam of his drawn sword just barely visible in the near perfect darkness. Another flash of lighting filled the cave and her eyes darted left and right, searching for movement, for someone lurking in the nearby shadows, for Octavia bloody and unmoving on the floor… For _anything._

“There!” Bellamy said, his voice an urgent whisper as the light flickered and disappeared once more, and though she couldn’t clearly see him, Clarke knew he had taken another step further in.

“Careful…” Martek cautioned, reaching a hand forward as if to hold back the young prince, his words a low growl that could only just be heard over the noise of the storm. His warning went unheeded, however, as the other man’s voice immediately rose in a shout meant to carry.

“Octavia?!” he called, the name travelling through the dark of the cave and returning to them as a mournful echo, and Clarke could feel the twins tense beside her, preparing themselves for an attack. If they had hoped to keep the element of surprise on their side as they explored the cavern, then Bellamy had just swiftly destroyed that chance. Clarke herself tensed and crouched, her longknife unsheathed and raised in front of her, unnerved by the fact that when the lightning wasn’t flashing none of them could see beyond more than a couple paces. An attacker could be creeping up on them right now, poised to strike and take then down unawares.

“Bell?...” a feminine voice replied several long seconds after the last echoes of Bellamy’s shout had died.  Clarke recognized Octavia immediately. “Bellamy, is that you?!”

Another flash of light and crackle of trailing thunder, and Clarke finally saw what Bellamy had noticed moments earlier. On the far side of the cavern, across from where they stood at the entrance, a small figure crouched against the wall, the pale oval of her unscarred face peering out from behind the dark fall of her long, tangled brown hair. It was Octavia, shackled and bound, and as soon as she saw her Clarke felt the tight fist of worry she had been holding deep in her chest suddenly ease, relief flooding her tensed limbs. Bellamy rushed forward, crossing the distance in several quick bounds, somehow managing not to trip and fall despite his haste and the uneven ground. He reached his sister just as the flickering light disappeared, his arms grabbing her up in a fierce hug that was only slightly hampered by the chains that held her. Clarke tried to follow after him, but the ensuing darkness made it difficult. The twins quickly solved the problem with a candle pulled from the pack on Martek’s back, Riva striking a quick spark into tinder and lighting it easily and in far less time than it would have taken Clarke to do it in the dark. With the soft, flickering yellow glow of the candle guiding their steps, the three moved together deeper into the cave, finding Bellamy and his sister huddled together against the far wall.

Clarke looked Octavia over with a healer’s eye. Dirt marred her face and it looked as though she had shed a few tears, but otherwise she appeared mostly unharmed, and she was answering her brother’s hurried questions clearly and with a calm, steady voice. She almost couldn’t believe they had actually managed to find her alive and unharmed, especially after everything that had happened, and also considering all the more likely, less savory outcomes. Regardless, Clarke couldn’t completely shake her worry. Maybe it was just a combination of the growing storm and the nearness of the Mountain, but it felt like something terrible could happen at any moment… or was about to happen.

“Octavia, are you okay? Are you injured?” she asked, kneeling down next to the younger woman. Bellamy moved back slightly to make room for her and Octavia’s gaze met Clarke’s.

“Clarke! Damn it’s good to see you, too!” she said, smiling a bit ruefully and shaking her head. “I’m fine. Twisted my ankle a bit, but I’m fine. How did you guys find me?” she asked, looking from one to the other. “Actually, never mind that, I don’t care how you found me… Just get these damn chains off of me!”

Considering what she must have gone through, Octavia sounded remarkably calm. However, Clarke could hear the edge of fear in her voice when she said the last bit, and she could see the angry, red tears of skin around her wrists where the girl had obviously been struggling to free herself. Clarke’s own wrists ached in sympathy, and she rubbed at the layers of scars which still marred her skin, just one of the physical marks which she carried on her body as a legacy from her time spent in the Ice Queen’s dungeon.

“We’ll get you out of here, ‘O, I promise,” Bellamy reassured his sister, standing beside her and motioning for Martek to help him with the shackles. Riva held the candle close for better light, and the two men set about testing for weak joints in the chains with their weapons.

“Octavia, who did this to you?” Clarke asked, seeking answers while the two men worked. She was happy to have found her unharmed, of course, but there had to be an explanation as to why the girl was here alone, alive and seemingly unguarded.

“It was just one man… I didn’t learn his name, but he was definitely _Trikru_ ,” Octavia said, her face scrunching into an expression that was part exasperation, part anger. She quickly described the man who had taken her and chained her up here in this cave, and there was no doubt that he was a member of the Woods Clan.

“We found two dead Reapers a ways back on the trail… Was that his handiwork or yours?”

“His,” she confirmed, shaking her head at the memory, a glint in her eye that seemed to be a combination of amazement and appreciation. “He killed them so fast, Clarke… I’ve never seen a warrior move as quickly as him. It was incredible!”

“Well, let’s hope we don’t run into him on our way out, then,” she replied, first rocking back on her heels, then putting a hand on the ground to push herself back up to her feet. The man might have left, but surely he would be returning at any moment to recover his prisoner, and likely with more of his people along to help. Their best chance to make it out of this mess unscathed would be to free Octavia quickly and escape into the cover of the storm. Better to take their chances against the storm outside than wait for a _Trikru_ band to corner them in this cave and slaughter them like caged animals. The boys seemed to be struggling with finding a means to break open the shackles and chains, and she stepped closer to lend a hand.

“Let me take a look,” she offered, her thoughts filling her with urgency. They needed to free Octavia and get the hell out of here.

“Bastard got these jammed shut real good,” Bellamy grumbled, “We might need to just dig the anchor point out of the rock and worry about removing the shackles back at camp.”

His sister seemed to startle at this, her shoulders twitching at his mention of returning.

“Back at camp?” she echoed, glancing back up at her brother, an all-too-familiar stubborn note entering her voice. “I’m not going back there, Bell.”

Bellamy shook his head at her words, denial clear in both his expression and the obstinate set of his shoulders.

“Of course you’re coming back with me! It’s the only place that’s safe for you… Don’t be an idiot.”

The siblings glared at each other as Clarke set about examining Octavia’s bonds, carefully pretending as though she wasn’t paying any attention to their argument. They bickered back and forth as she worked, the volume of their voices rising with every word.

“Damnit, I love you Bellamy, but you can’t control my life!” Octavia finally shouted, the words equal parts anguished and enraged. Her brother had just finished threatening to tie her up and drag her back to the _Azgeda_ encampment by force if necessary, and his misguided threat had clearly struck a nerve.

“My whole life I’ve felt like a prisoner in the Ice Nation… Today was the first time that I’ve ever actually felt _free_. Why don’t you understand that?...”

Her words trailed off, leaving her face sad and a little lost, and Bellamy’s beset with a stricken, confused expression. Clarke had never felt more like an intruder between them before, and she wished circumstances would have allowed the siblings to have this argument in a time and place that allowed for privacy. Over the past week, she felt that she and the younger girl were beginning to form a budding friendship, or at least a shared respect and understanding, and she knew that this was a conversation long overdue between the two.

She glanced over at the twins and was unsurprised to find them exchanging a long, enigmatic look between themselves. Spirits only knew what those two thought of this whole mess.

An awkward silence had fallen after Octavia’s last words, and the cave went quiet except for the continued sounds of the howling wind, rain and thunder outside. The storm seemed to be growing even stronger by the moment. Already tree branches were cracking and falling just beyond the cave’s entrance, unable to withstand the ferocity and speed of the wind. If the storm got much worse, _Trikru_ and Reapers might be the least of their problems.

“Riva, could you give me your knife? The small, thin one,” she asked, holding her hand out to the other woman. She had seen her pull that knife from her inner sleeve more than once already, and she thought it best suited to the task at hand. “It should be narrow enough… I think I can see where I can spring the lock loose.”

The impassive young tracker handed the knife over without comment and Clarke worked the blade into the gap in the shackles, cautioning Octavia to hold still and trying to be careful not to cut her skin. After several attempts, she managed to wrench the mechanism free, and the first thick ring of metal fell open and slipped off of the girl’s wrist and onto the cave floor with a loud clang. An excited sigh of relief fell from each of their mouths at her success, and Clarke quickly got to work on the second shackle. Octavia sprang to her feet the moment both her hands were free, then bit off a curse as she put her weight back on her injured foot.

“Are you going to be able to walk?” Bellamy asked with concern, breaking his silence and grabbing her elbow to help her stand upright.

“I’ll be fine,” his sister growled, angrily shaking off his helping hand, then shifting her weight awkwardly until she stood on her own, though she had to balance most of her weight on her good foot.

“This isn’t the time to be stubborn, ‘O,” he replied, and although his words were true, Clarke still found herself wanting to roll her eyes, but didn’t. Coming from the prince of stubbornness, his words were a bit ironic. She was quickly losing patience with both of them at the moment.

“There’s no time for _any_ of this! You two can argue all you want later, but we need to leave… _Now._ And quickly.”

“I agree,” Martek added, stepping between the two dark-haired siblings and quietly offering his arm to Octavia. The girl slung her arm over his shoulders without complaint and allowed him to half carry her across the cave towards the entrance. The others followed, Bellamy with a scowl on his face, and Riva with a tight lipped smile, still holding the small candle.

“I’m glad I’m an only child,” Clarke muttered to her, soft enough that only the silent woman could hear her, and Riva’s small smile grew a little larger.

When they reached the entrance, Riva blew out the candle and stowed it away, and Bellamy stepped out to the edge of where the rain fell in a thick, unrelenting wall of water. He squinted out into the gray darkness, shaking his head at the sight.

“This is no normal storm,” he muttered, just barely audible over the noise of the rushing water, and his words were chased by an answering crackle of lightning and thunder. Clarke turned towards him to say something to the effect that she would rather take her chances with the storm than with _Trikru_ warriors, but was immediately stopped from doing so when she saw him tense in alarm, his hand reaching for his sheathed sword.

“Someone is coming!” he hissed, and the others all startled at his words. “Get back, against the walls!” He added, motioning them all back and further into the darkness of the cave with one arm. With the low visibility caused by the rain and thick clouds, it was impossible to see more than a few feet beyond the cave’s entrance, but the flash of lightning had briefly revealed the outline of a dark form carefully working its way up the flooding ravine and towards the cave, and Bellamy had just happened to be looking out at the right moment.

Clarke pressed herself against the cave wall next to Riva, unable to clearly see either Martek or Octavia, but assuming they were doing the same on the opposite side. She drew her longknife from its sheath at her lower back, pulse thudding in her veins, and saw Bellamy pull his sword just before he crouched down behind a shelf of rock near the cave opening.

There was nowhere to run and no time to hide further. Silently they waited for whatever might emerge from the storm beyond, weapons ready.

… They didn’t wait long.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Lincoln wiped his sodden sleeve across his face in a useless attempt to clear the water from his eyes, then bent his head against the driving rain and pressed onwards up the gentle slope of the ravine, watching his every step carefully as water rushed over the rocks and past his feet. The storm that he had been feeling beyond the horizon for almost two days now had finally arrived, and had done so with a vengeance. He’d been almost an hour on his way back to the nearest _Trikru_ encampment to warn them about the presence of _Azgeda_ on their lands when the storm had forced him to stop and rethink his plans. In the forest alone, at night and without shelter, a storm like this could easily kill you. Falling trees were an obvious danger, but just as dangerous were flash floods, lightning, and vast avalanches of mud that could quickly overtake and bury even the quickest and most careful man or woman. Deciding that making the journey back to his people in this storm was too great a risk, he had reluctantly turned and hurried back towards the cave where he had left his prisoner.

His prisoner, that _Azgeda_ girl…

He wasn’t sure why he had taken her, or why even he had helped her hide in the first place. When he had first heard the sound of Reapers on the hunt, his immediate thought had been that they must be chasing one of the young Sky People. Almost without realizing what he was doing, he had found himself hurrying to intercept. Whether it was wise of him or not, he couldn’t deny that he now felt partially responsible for the curious young people who had fallen from the sky. They were isolated from the rest of their kind, alone and struggling to survive in a strange land. After fighting beside them more than once and watching them for days, he found that he couldn’t just stand by and let Reapers pick them off one by one.

Besides, he had made an agreement with their leader, Lexa Black, and something about her – something in the steady, penetrating gaze of her clear green eyes on his, and the firm clasp of her hand on his forearm as he swore to speak to his people on her behalf – had taken a grip on his soul and wouldn’t let go. They had shared something between them in that moment, something which had gone beyond the surface words spoken. A shared dream for a better future for their people. She was a warrior just the same as he was, but just as he did, it seemed that she also dreamed of more than war.

So, rather than slip deeper into the forest and hide as he so often did when he heard Reaper patrols nearby, Lincoln had instead rushed towards them and prepared to ambush them in their path. It wasn’t until after he killed the first two that he saw who, exactly, he had rescued.

_Azgedakru here, this close to the Mountain and within Trigeda territory?_

The girl hadn’t spoken of any others, but he knew that she must not be alone. It was terrible timing, to be sure, and if there _were_ others of her kind nearby, then it undoubtedly spelled trouble for his clan. He _had_ been headed back to the _Skaikru_ camp to tell Lexa of the time and place that had been arranged for her meeting with the war chief, but after brief consideration he had realized that this new threat now took precedence.

If the Ice Nation had war parties nearby then his people were in danger. They would need to question the _Azgeda_ girl and learn everything she knew before her people could attack.

_“Help me.”_

The girl’s words to him echoed in his skull as he neared the cave entrance, the plea desperate. Insistent. It had been more of a demand than a request, really, and his lips twitched into a smile now at the memory. Rather than leave her behind, he should have immediately taken her with him back to his people for questioning, but he hadn’t… It might have been cowardly, leaving her hidden in the cave, but it had seemed the only option he could stomach at the time. She may be the enemy, but the thought of watching that vibrant, fierce young creature being tortured and questioned for information had filled him with a sensation close to horror. She was young, determined, fearless… Though she apparently wasn’t yet old enough to have earned her scars, nevertheless, she hadn’t _seemed_ a child to him.

Leaving her behind had been cowardly, but it had been a compromise with himself that he had needed to make. He’d hoped that getting away from her would clear his head and remind him of his duty, and make turning her over to his people easier in the end. Now the storm had forced him to change his plans, and he would have to face her once more.

He found himself both dreading and strangely looking forward to it.

Lincoln stepped out of the driving rain and into the cave, and the dry darkness wrapped around him like a welcoming blanket. He blinked, eyes struggling to adjust to the lack of light. Though the sun was surely now beginning to set behind the thick clouds above, there was still just enough dim light outside the cave to be able to see, and he knew it would take a few seconds for his eyes to become accustom to the near perfect darkness of the cave.

Someone lunged at him, their dark form and flashing blade just barely visible in the corner of his eye. Caught completely by surprise, it was his warrior instincts alone which saved him. He dropped to his knees, barely managing to evade the blow, though he could feel the wind from it passing over his close-shaved head. Not waiting to give his attacker time for another swing, he pulled his knife free from his belt as he fell, and with a snarl, launched himself from the ground at the dark figure he could now sense in front of him, striking out low with his knife, letting the momentum of his strike carry him into the other man.

Together, they hit the floor of the cave, and Lincoln felt the hot wash blood splash his hand.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

As Bellamy swung his sword at Octavia’s captor, the thought which rang through Clarke’s mind most loudly was neither fear nor anticipation, but instead a sudden fury as she realized too late the prince’s intentions.

_Damnit, that idiot is going to kill him!_

She should have known he would strike to kill and not to disable. The last thing they needed was to kill a _Trikru_ warrior on _Trigeda_ lands, regardless of the circumstance. How did Bellamy expect to be able to convince the Woods Clan that their delegation was here with peaceful intentions if the first thing they did upon arrival was murder one of their warriors?

Outlined by the gray glow of the rain outside, she saw the warrior drop to his knees as though alerted by a whispered warning only he could hear, Bellamy’s sword missing him by only a hairsbreadth, then lunge forward with all the frightening agility and speed of a striking rattlesnake. The two men collided and fell, grappling and rolling on the ground, blades hunting for each other’s lifeblood as they both grunted with effort. Her eyes struggled to follow the conflict in the dim light. Bellamy kicked free of the other man, and she saw what looked like Martek slide from the deeper shadows to strike at the _Trikru_ warrior where he lay on the ground. The man rolled, again evading a surprise blow that surely would have been lethal had it landed, and sprang to his feet before the two _Azgeda_ warriors could strike again, facing them in a low crouch with his back to a cave wall and his knife held in front of him, a slim flash of silver in the blackness. He hadn’t had time to pull either of the swords strapped to his back, but Clarke didn’t doubt he was just as adept at killing with the small knife he held. Riva had left Clarke’s side to join the men, and the three _Skaibona_ warriors circled their opponent with deadly intent.

_No! We can’t kill him!_

Clarke opened her mouth to shout those exact words, but was surprised when someone else beat her to it.

“Don’t kill him!” Octavia shouted desperately, “Bellamy, don’t… Don’t kill him! He saved my life!”

The anguish in her young voice cut through the cave and the violence, the purity of it ringing through them all. Bellamy and the others froze in surprise at her words, and the _Trikru_ warrior saw his chance, ducking even lower to make a swift dash past Martek, rushing towards the entrance and escape.

He was fast, but not fast enough. The man’s breath left him in a gasp as Martek’s weight settled on him from behind. The tracker had leapt to intercept, catching him and bringing him to the ground in a tangle of limbs and blades. Bellamy soon added his weight to the man’s back, gripping his hand and beating it against the stone ground until his knife flung from his grip. Even unarmed the man continued to struggle, the two other men just barely keeping him pinned beneath them. It wasn’t until Bellamy struck him with the hilt of his sword once, twice, three times, that he finally lay still, stunned by the blows. The prince raised his fist to hit him again.

“No, Bellamy, stop!” Octavia shouted, and suddenly she was there at his side, gripping his wrist with both hands. “Stop hitting him! You’ll kill him.”

Bellamy looked up at his sister, his face unreadable in the darkness, but Clarke didn’t need to see his face to know that he was unconvinced.

“Bellamy, she’s right… We can’t kill him. Don’t forget why we are here! If you kill him here and his people find out about it, any chance for a treaty will have died with him.”

The group seemed to collectively hold their breath as the prince considered her words. Finally, he lowered his fist, and Octavia released her hold on his wrist at the same time Clarke released her held breath.

“Fine… We’ll leave him alive, for now. Riva, the shackles. Martek, keep a good hold of him in case he’s faking,” Bellamy ordered, his voice firm but calm, their words apparently having worked to help him put his anger aside. “He was going to leave Octavia locked up here in the dark, so now we’ll do the same to him. Sounds only fair to me… Let’s chain him up and get the hell out of here!”

Riva moved to obey and Octavia stepped back to lean her weight against a wall, shuffling a bit awkwardly as she favored her injured ankle. Bellamy stood up slowly, taking a step towards his sister, then stumbled and fell to one knee, rainwater splashing down on him as he landed half outside of the cave. Clarke took an involuntarily step forward, her brow drawing down in concern when she saw his hands reach down to his side.

“Bellamy, are you alright?” she asked, kneeling beside him a moment later, her hands reaching to where he clutched his side. His dark eyes met hers, face pale, mouth open in surprise and pain. He shook his head, wincing, and she pulled his hands away so that she could feel with her own, fingers being of better use than eyes in the dim of the cave.

“I think… that tree bastard stabbed me!” he groaned, and he had no more than said the words then she felt the warm rush of blood across her fingers that confirmed it, the steady flow pulsing weakly with each beat of his heart.

It was a lot of blood. Clarke felt her own pulse rise in alarm.

“Octavia?” she called, her voice calm, firm and in control, not letting her concern show. It was her healer’s voice, the one she used in surgery or when treating wounds, when she knew that she needed to be the calmest person in the room or someone might very well die.

“What is it, Clarke? Is he hurt?” the girl asked, hobbling towards them.

“Bring me my bag, please… Quickly,” she ordered. As she did so, she pressed her hands tighter against the wound, not willing to take the pressure away even for the short time it would take to locate her bag. Judging from the amount of blood she was feeling, this was no shallow cut under her palms. Bellamy sagged beneath her hands, slouching down to the ground even further until he was nearly laying down, another low groan leaving his lips. Once the adrenaline of the fight had subsided, his body was now reacting to the wound, and he was probably feeling the pain from it fully now.

“Son of a bitch!” he gasped, and she felt him begin to struggle beneath her.

“Hold still, Bellamy, just hold still! I’m going to help you, okay?… Octavia! My bag, now!”

His weak struggling was an unconscious reaction she knew, as his body instinctively sought to fight against whatever was hurting him. Clarke didn’t let him pull away, stubbornly keeping her hands in place, letting her body weight partially pin him to the ground to keep him from moving further.

“Riva! Bellamy is hurt. I need light, quickly!” she shouted. Octavia arrived at her side with her bag, her face pale and worried, and Clarke quickly switched places with her, pressing the other girl’s hands against her brother’s wounds. Bellamy was no longer speaking or struggling. Instead, his head had started to loll to one side as he fought off unconsciousness, his eyelids fluttering. She dug through her bag for the bandages she needed, her fingers finding them easily despite the lack of light.

“Clarke…” Octavia whispered, her breaths shuddering and words choked from her lips as though they were painful things, “Clarke, there’s a lot of blood…”

The girl was clearly fighting to stay calm, and Clarke hurried to reassure her.

“Octavia, listen, your brother’s been stabbed, but I can stop the bleeding,” she told her, not letting any hint of doubt enter her voice. She slid next to her, pushing her hands away so that she could blindly press a folded bandage to the wound she still couldn’t properly see.

“Here, put your hands right here. I need you to keep pressure on the wound, okay? Hold it firm, like this,” she instructed, and the other girl immediately did what she asked. The moment Clarke’s hands were free she turned to look back into the cave, searching for the twins. They had the _Trikru_ man pinned on the floor still and Martek was clamping the shackles on his wrists, his sister helping him to close the clasps.

“Riva, I need light!” she shouted again, and this time she let the urgency enter her voice. The twins looked up at her words, and Martek motioned his sister away.

“Go, help them. I’ve got this one,” he said, standing to drag the enemy warrior, now bound in chains, towards the back of the cave.

When the candle light finally fell upon Bellamy’s wound, Clarke had to stop herself from sucking in a surprised gasp. The bandage she and Octavia had been using was already soaked through with blood. The wound was relatively small, only about three inches wide, but it had evidently struck deep into his abdomen, and thick, dark blood oozed steadily from the puncture. Once she had a good look at it, she quickly pressed the bandage to it once more, giving herself several seconds to think before speaking.

“Clarke, tell me you can fix this,” Octavia said through gritted teeth, her words almost a growl. Clarke looked up at her, seeing the ferocity in her eyes, and wondered if Octavia would accept any answer other than yes. The girl’s determination was almost a physical thing, pressing against her threateningly. She met her gaze and nodded steadily. The wound was serious, but shouldn’t be life threatening if treated quickly.

“Yes, I can, but this could take some time. He won’t be going anywhere tonight... Not until we get this wound stitched and properly treated. Now, everyone get over here and help me move him.”

Working together, she, Octavia and the twins carefully moved Bellamy further into the cavern and away from the entrance. Using dry wood found stacked against one wall, they built a fire for better light and Clarke quickly got to work on the wound, her hands sure and steady despite the flickering light. It was bloody work, but this was what she had been trained for. Being confronted with terrible injuries no longer scared her as it had when she was a small child. Instead, tending wounds filled her with a sensation of peace, of being in control. No one would die under her hands if she could help it. She refused to watch a friend die, even one for whom she felt so many conflicted feelings of anger and betrayal, and there was comfort in knowing she had the skills needed to save him.

 More than an hour later, Clarke leaned away from Bellamy with a sigh, finally looking up at the others surrounding her. Aside from asking – or rather, demanding – their assistance from time to time, she had spared no thought for her concerned audience, but had instead given her full attention to the injury under her fingers. After cleaning the wound with water and a splash of alcohol, she had used one of her treasured metal needles to sew the wound shut with string that had been boiled and carefully packed away so as to stay clean. Several layers of bandages had been wrapped tightly around the wound to control the bleeding, and she was thankful that Bellamy had stayed unconscious during the entire procedure as it had made stitching and wrapping it much easier. He lay still and unmoving, his breaths low but steady, and Clarke felt satisfied that she had done well in closing the wound. In the morning, once the storm had cleared, he should be able to travel, though they would probably need to make a drag sled and pull him back to camp as trying to walk so soon would likely reopen his wound.

“Is he going to be okay?” Octavia asked, running her hands through her brother’s sweat-slicked hair. Their earlier feud over her return to the _Azgeda_ camp had apparently been forgotten, and Clarke couldn’t help but smile slightly. No matter what else might happen, no matter their disputes and differences, the two siblings clearly loved each other. It would take something more serious than an argument, no matter how heated, to break their bond.

“He should be fine. He lost a lot of blood and the cut was deep, but he got lucky… It looks like it didn’t hit anything vital and the bleeding has mostly stopped. I doubt he will be able to walk in the morning… We’ll have to make a litter and carry him.”

The others took in her words in silence, all of them looking down at the man. Octavia was no doubt relieved to hear her brother would be okay, and the twins were no doubt worrying over the added risk and the difficulty of travelling unnoticed over such rough terrain with a wounded man who couldn’t walk. They all started in surprise, therefore, when a sound came from behind them, deeper in the cave. At the edge of the firelight, their prisoner jerked and shuddered in his chains, his head shaking with confusion as he regained consciousness and realized where he was and what must have happened. His eyes met all of theirs, filled with rage and burning darkly in the firelight. His arms yanked hard against their chains, corded muscles flexing and straining, and for a moment Clarke feared he might actually have the strength to break himself free… But the chains held, and he sagged back against the wall after several tense moments, his body trembling from the failed effort.

Clarke sighed and looked away, then reached for her bag of medical supplies once more. When she stood and approached the prisoner, she was surprised to find Octavia at her side, her hand gripping her forearm tightly, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“What are you doing?” she asked, and Clarke raised an eyebrow at her accusatory tone. She shrugged off her hand, a bit tiredly, and Octavia reluctantly released her grip. She suddenly felt every one of the difficult miles they had travelled that day, as well as the strain of the last few hours, and she wanted nothing more than to lie down next to the fire and fall asleep for days.

She was a healer, however, and there was still an injured man to see to before she could find her rest.

“I’m just going to take a look at his head wound, Octavia,” she explained, annoyed and a bit mystified by the girl’s protectiveness towards their captive.

“Oh, of course… Sorry,” the younger girl said, stepping aside so that Clarke could pass, and she had the decency to look a little embarrassed.

_This is going to be a long night._

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

It was a very long night.

As the storm raged outside, Clarke watched with rising concern as Bellamy tossed and turned in unconsciousness, sweat beading his forehead and glimmering on the exposed skin of his chest. The others slept in turns, one person remaining on watch at the cave entrance in case of any more unwanted visitors. Though she napped briefly several times, Clarke stayed mostly awake and at Bellamy’s side, only leaving him to wet a rag in the falling rain and place the cool cloth on his forehead. It seemed to do little to fight his rising fever and discomfort, and uneasiness trickled down her spine as she watched his condition steadily worsen. As dawn approached, she found herself staring at the prisoner in his bonds, his knife held loosely in her hands and his meager possessions strewn out around her on the cave floor, her expression blank as she considered what must be true. What she had hoped to find had not been among his things. He stared back at her, silent, unblinking, his eyes dark and knowing.

In the moments just before the sun peaked the horizon, Clarke gathered the others around her, knowing her own face must be as exhausted as theirs were, and told them.

“Bellamy is going to die.”

Octavia tensed, her eyes widening, fists clenching at Clarke’s words. The twins didn’t react, their faces already set in weary sadness, and that was enough to tell Clarke that her own suspicions were not unfounded.

_They know it too… They’ve known since the moment Martek picked up the Trikru knife._

“What are you talking about?” Octavia demanded, cutting through her inner thoughts. “I don’t understand… The bleeding’s stopped, you stitched the wound. You said you could heal him, Clarke!’

“The wound is poisoned,” she explained, her tongue dry in her mouth as she spoke, and she could hear the echoes of her mother’s voice in her mind. Her mother had once had to explain this to her, not so long ago, and Clarke felt a strange numbness settle into her as the past bled into the present.

“I’ve seen this before… So have they.”

She indicated the twins with a tilt of her head, though her eyes never left the prisoner’s where he remained chained against the wall, watching them all.

“The blade was poisoned, and it’s killing him… Slowly.”

Octavia shook her head, jaw clenching.

“No… No! Clarke, there has to be _something_ … There has to be a way to help him!”

“There is,” she agreed, still not taking her eyes from the prisoner’s. “There is an antidote. If we give it to him in the next day or so, we might be able to save him.”

“So make it and give it to him!” Octavia demanded, her voice rising in frustration.

Clarke shook her head.

“I would, but not even my mother knows how it is made. I don’t have any with me and I don’t know where to find some… But _he_ does,” she said in a voice like iron, pointing towards their captive. All eyes followed her pointing finger, and the prisoner stared back at them, as silent and defiant as he had been since waking in chains.  Clarke finally tore her eyes away from him and looked at Octavia.

“And if he doesn’t tell us where to find some quickly, your brother _will_ die.”

 


	18. Trust the Dawn

_“Is that what it’s like for you every morning here?”_

_She turned when she heard Clarke’s curious voice, her tone low and rough in that special way which never failed to set Lexa’s heart racing. The large doors to her chamber had just closed behind the last of her servants and Clarke now regarded her from across the room with an amused expression. While she had waited in the small adjacent washroom and donned her own clothes, Lexa had summoned her personal attendants to bring her clean clothing and re-do the complicated braids in her hair. The two older women had much practice at the task and were used to their Heda being impatient and in a hurry, and so it had taken them less than ten minutes to tame her wild brown locks into something more befitting her station. She had dismissed them immediately afterwards, feeling unusually aware of the rumpled state of her furs and the hidden presence of the Skaikru Ambassador just a few feet away._

_Seeing Clarke standing there now beside her bed, watching her with those knowing blue eyes, Lexa had to struggle to resist the urge to cross the room and pull the other woman back into her arms. Clarke was once more fully dressed in the clothes she had hastily discarded that night, and she found herself already missing the intimacy of bared skin against skin._

_“They are the Commander’s personal servants. It is their duty to assist me with many things here in Polis, but I do not usually require their help every morning,” she replied, a soft smile tracing the corners of her own lips as she walked over to reclaim her overcoat from where it still hung against the back of a chair. The dark coat was the only piece of clothing she had managed not to toss onto the floor in her haste to shed her own clothes when they had first entered her room that night. As she pulled it on now, it was almost as though she could feel the physical weight of all her responsibilities settling back onto her shoulders, but she refused to let thoughts of what waited for her outside this room dampen her current good mood._

_She lifted her eyes to meet Clarke’s, shrugging slightly and sharing a genuine smile._

_“It is something I have grown used to.”_

_Clarke shook her head gently, still smiling, her eyebrows knitting together in what looked like consternation, or perhaps amazement._

_“When I first met you, I could never have imagined all of… this,” she said, a note of wonder in her voice. She waved her arm as if to encompass not only the room they stood in, but everything beyond as well. “Nothing has been at all like I expected.”_

_Lexa thought back to their first meeting, and as she did so, it felt as though years had passed since then instead of mere months. She had met her as an enemy in a camp of war, surrounded by her army and wearing her weapons and war paint, her most trusted advisors at her side. They had come so very far since that moment… and in so many different ways._

_“Polis?” Lexa asked, encouraging her to continue_

_She knew she shouldn’t linger… That there were many duties awaiting her attention and it was well past time for her to depart, but she was intrigued by the blonde’s choice in topic. Though she was not yet willing to let the conversation drop and take her leave, Lexa forced herself to maintain the physical distance between them and ignored the growing need she felt to be at her side. As difficult as it had been for them to leave the seductive warmth of her bed just minutes before, she didn’t yet trust herself to be near the other woman and not touch her._

_It was strange, this feeling of not being able to fully control her own thoughts and actions. Even with Costia she had never felt this overwhelmed, this consumed by another person’s mere presence. Strange… and exhilarating at the same time_

_“Polis, your people… My people… And you.”_

_Clarke had sounded a little sad when she mentioned her own people, no doubt thinking of the massacre they had recently committed, but that sadness had disappeared into a delighted smile at the mention of Lexa. Unable to bear it a moment longer, she gave in to the urge to approach her, closing the short distance between them with several slow steps. Reaching down, she slipped her hand around Clarke’s, lacing their fingers tightly together. Clarke’s gaze never wavered from hers and her breath caught at the look she saw in them. In an instant she was reminded again of all they had shared that night and morning, and of how much it had changed things forever between them._

_They kissed… Soft, sweet, the meeting of their lips as inevitable as the sun rising that morning had been. Clarke’s free hand rose to cup the side of her face, and for several long moments the two women remained lost in each other once more, all thoughts of their conversation and the world outside drifting away like smoke. The moment their kiss began to slip from tender to hungry and Clarke’s hands tightened around the collar of her stiff coat, drawing her nearer, Lexa pulled away with a gasp and fought to regain her senses, lips pressed together in a fierce smile that threatened to break into laughter._

_“Now I really_ must _go… Titus will be expecting me.”_

_Clarke frowned, the corners of her mouth turning down in disapproval at the mention of the dour Fleimkepa, her hands untangling from Lexa’s collar and sliding down to rest on her shoulders briefly before dropping to her sides. Lexa’s own hands had somehow found the other woman’s waist, and she released her with some reluctance._

_“I think I’m starting to dislike that man just as much as he dislikes me,” Clarke muttered, regarding her thoughtfully. The words may have been delivered in a low growl, but the blonde girl’s lips twitched in amusement after she finished speaking, and Lexa merely shook her head, still smiling._

_“He will learn to trust you as I do.”_

_Clarke said nothing at that, but Lexa caught the fleeting expression of distrust that passed across her face. She remembered their conversation that evening – the one which had led to their second kiss and all the blissful ones that had quickly followed – and knew Clarke was not entirely joking when she spoke of disliking the older man. She leaned in and let their lips brush together softly once more, lingering for another long, delicious moment, then stepped back and turned towards the door._

_“We can speak more of him and your other concerns later if you like, Clarke, but for now… I must return to my duties.”_

_Reaching the door, her hand had just met the handle to pull it open when the other woman’s voice calling her name arrested her movement completely._

_“Lexa?”_

_She loved it when Clarke used her name… Savored it each time as though it were the softest caress. She turned and met her eyes across the room, and what she saw for the briefest moment in Clarke’s expression made her heart fill almost to breaking. Neither spoke for several long seconds as they regarded each other, the intervening space of several feet yawning far too wide and distant between them. Clarke opened her mouth as though to say something, then closed it, her guarded eyes revealing glimpses of the conflicted turmoil within._

_Lexa smiled, lifting her chin in acknowledgement of the unspoken words, understanding the other woman’s complex thoughts and feelings in that special way they had always understood each other, right from the very start._

_“We will see each other again soon, Clarke,” she reassured her gently, though no reassurance had been asked for out loud. The promise was spoken so softly that she would later wonder if she had even been able to hear her at all._

_Pulling her eyes away and turning back to the door, Lexa opened it in a swift movement and stepped confidently through, allowing herself only one quick backwards glance as she did so. Her eyes caught the sweep of the door as it swung silently shut behind her, and Clarke’s face disappeared from her view…_

 

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Lexa’s eyes opened.

For a moment the darkness was so complete around her that she almost wasn’t certain whether her eyes were truly open or not. Slowly, the dim confines of the underground vault’s main chamber came into focus, and she sat unmoving for several long seconds, her mind still lost in the warm, tangled webs of her dream. Her last words to Clarke whispered through her ears as though they had just been spoken in the far distance, their echo carried to her on the backs of the soft shadows which now surrounded her on all sides. She took a deep breath and held it, and on its release she felt her throat catch around the exhalation, the resulting sound ragged and raw with the sadness she normally couldn’t allow herself to show. Against her side, Aden’s warm form shifted slightly, then settled again, his sleep no doubt disturbed by her sudden tension, and Lexa forced herself to tear her thoughts away from the tantalizing memory of the dream and be still, calm, and present in the current moment once more. As she did, she realized that Miller was no longer bracketing her on her other side, and her eyes worked to search him out amongst the indistinct, sprawled forms of their companions.

He was not far. In fact, he appeared to be standing at the base of the ladder which led up to the surface in the center of the room, his head tilted back as he stared upwards. Easing carefully away from Aden so that he would not fall without her supporting shoulder, Lexa slid aside and gained her feet, her legs and backside stiff, numb and complaining from the awkwardness of sleeping against the cold concrete. By necessity, any true warrior of the Clans quickly learned the knack for sleeping in just about any situation, but Lexa wasn’t too proud to admit to herself that at least a _small_ part of her did miss some of the benefits that being the Commander had provided. She had never complained about the necessity of being surrounded by guards, servants, and various attendants, but then she had never felt greatly attached or dependent on them either. Now, after having spent days among the abandoned _Skaikru_ delinquents, who lacked even the most basic of creature comforts on the best of days, her relatively brief time spent ruling the Coalition from her tower in Polis seemed quite luxurious in comparison. With her dream having brought those memories to the front of her mind, a part of her was extremely glad that they would not be spending another night in this damp, depressing place.

Miller glanced over at her as she approached, his face unreadable in the dark. She stood beside him for a quiet moment and listened to the storm rumble past up above.

“It’s getting quieter,” he said when she didn’t speak, his words soft in the darkness so as not to wake the others. “Sounds like the worst might have passed.”

“And it will be dawn soon, if it isn’t already. We should wake the others and get them ready to leave,” she said, agreeing with his assessment that the storm did sound much less ferocious than it had earlier. It was difficult to keep track of time down here in the still darkness of the forgotten vault, but the sooner they left after the storm’s passage, the safer they would be. Any Reapers in the area would have also gone to ground during the storm, and they would be wise to take advantage of that to get back to the dropship unseen.

“We’ll need to hand out the guns,” he reminded her, and she felt her face go even more cold and impassive at the thought of the weapons stacked in the nearby corner.

“And if they are going to carry a gun, we should probably make sure they know how to carry it properly… Not to mention how to shoot it,” he added.

The “we” in his statement startled her. Clearly he assumed that she knew about firearms, and Lexa felt a moment of unease as she wondered whether or not Miller and the others expected her to be able to teach all of them how to operate the deadly contraptions. Searching her new memories of life on the Ark, she strained to remember anything that might be of use… Did Lexa Black know how to use firearms? She didn’t know, and not knowing disconcerted her. Unused to feeling inadequate to a task – especially one that involved the use of a killing weapon – Lexa swallowed down the sudden uncertainty that had sprung up from somewhere deep within at the thought.

“Those weapons are dangerous,” she said cautiously, once it became clear that he was waiting for her response, her cool voice and demeanor giving none of her inner thoughts away. “They need to be handled carefully.”

“My dad always said that it was people who were dangerous, not the guns themselves,” Miller remarked, his voice contemplative. “Of course, he’s worked for Ark Security his whole life, so he’s more comfortable with them than most people.”

“Your father is a guard?” she asked, the question sparking a memory even as she asked it. Not a memory from her life as Lexa Black, however. Rather, she recalled someone she had met several times during the campaign against Mount Weather, and she realized all at once that she might actually know Miller’s father. A brave man, she remembered, if it was indeed the same man… He had charged the fortified vault door under heavy fire, nearly dying in the attempt to reach it. He had spoken more than once of needing to save his son, and she knew now that he had been speaking of Nate Miller, held captive with the rest of Clarke’s people in the Mountain.

“Yeah,” he replied dryly, “and he just _loved_ finding out he had a thief for a son… It was a huge embarrassment for him when I got caught. I’m sure he’s still pissed about it.”

Lexa again thought back to what little she knew of his father and found that she wasn’t sure she agreed. The man had clearly loved his son unconditionally, criminal or not. She wondered if they had been reunited in her own time, and was disturbed to realize that she would likely never know for certain one way or another. It was not something she had ever asked Clarke about. For all she knew, Miller had been one of those who had perished in the Mountain before Clarke could save them all. Did she have a portion of his blood on her hands as well? Another unseen consequence of her act of betrayal on that terrible night?

To distract herself from her own depressing thoughts, Lexa asked him what else his father had taught him about firearms. As it turned out, the answer was a great deal. In fact, Miller seemed to know a lot about the weapons, and so it was with a sense of relief that she tasked him with training the others.

“It doesn’t look like we have a lot of time, so just teach them the basics,” she advised.

“The basics it is, then. I can handle that no problem,” he said, a small, sly grin on his face. In his own quiet way, he sounded excited by the prospect of getting to use the rifles he had found. She wished she could share his excitement, but instead only felt a weary dread at the prospect of so many dangerous weapons in the hands of inexperienced, frightened _Skaikru_ teenagers, though she still knew it was necessary.

She watched as Miller immediately left her side to begin the task of rousing the others from their sleep. The more she got to know this young man, the more correct he proved her initial assessment of him as someone who was both clever and capable. On top of this, he also possessed the stomach for violent practicality when it was needed, which made him even more valuable to her. Miller was quickly becoming someone among the young Sky People whom she felt she could truly depend on, and he wasn’t the only one.

Surprised by that last realization, Lexa felt a bit amazed by how quickly she was coming to like, and in some cases even slightly admire, many of Clarke’s people.

_With friends like these, no wonder Clarke was so willing to sacrifice everything to save them…_

Lexa remained where she was as the others slowly rose from their makeshift beds, looking upwards along the ladder once again and blinking when drops of water trickled down from one of the lower rungs and splashed against her upturned face. A small puddle had formed at the base of the ladder from rainwater that had been able to find its way inside. As powerful as the storm had sounded, she worried briefly about what state the camp would be in when they returned. She was anxious to climb and lift the hatch to see with her own eyes what damage the unusual storm had wrought, but she resisted the urge, instead crossing over to where Aden and Jones still slept against the wall.

“Aden,” she said, gently shaking his shoulder, smiling a bit to herself when the boy groaned under her touch and shifted away. He had never been quick to rise on the Ark either, she suddenly recalled, and experience a strange split within her mind as at the same moment she wondered if he had always been the last to rise in the _Natblida_ dormitory in their tower in Polis as well. Young teenaged boys, no matter the circumstances, it seemed, did not wake easily. She shook him a bit more firmly, raising her voice a little and repeating his name. This time his eyes snapped open and sought out hers in the dim light, awareness filling him quickly as he took in his unusual surroundings and remembered where he was.

“Time to rise, little brother…” she said, a hint of humor in her voice, and she saw him smile lopsidedly at her teasing reference to the familial bond they shared in this strange life they were now living.

“The storm has passed, and we’ve a busy dawn ahead of us.”

 

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Raindrops fell with fat, heavy splats against the leaves overhead in a calming, meditative rhythm, and the flooded stream of water rolling past the cave entrance continued to shrink, its rushing, gurgling tempo slowing with every second that passed. When Clarke stepped out from the darkness of the cave, her eyes immediately adjusted to the dim morning light that struggled over a horizon still ladened with heavy gray clouds. Though the rain continued to fall and a light breeze still stirred the trees, the worst of it had clearly passed and the air no longer held the threatening, chaotic edge it had held since the storm’s arrival many hours before. Martek joined her a moment later, his eyes sweeping left and right as he took in the damage to the surrounding forest. Just from the single vantage where they stood at the mouth of the cave, they could both see several trees which had been toppled by the incredibly powerful winds, and the forest canopy looked strangely patched and tattered all around them. In Martek’s hands, he held the chains which still bound the _Trikru_ warrior in his shackles, and the _Azgeda_ tracker yanked sharply, pulling the slightly larger man out from the shadows of the cave behind him.

His eyes met Clarke’s, and he didn’t try to conceal his worry.

“Are you sure this is wise?” he asked, shifting his glance to their prisoner, who was soon to become their guide. The question was not asked in challenge. Rather, it was asked respectfully, his concern clear in his soft, careful voice.

Clarke considered his words for a moment, battling the exhaustion she was feeling and trying not to become even more frustrated with their situation than she already was. Bellamy’s condition had not improved, as she had known it wouldn’t, and there simply wasn’t time for hours spent in rigorous debate on how best to proceed. If they wanted to save the prince’s life, they needed to take action quickly, and every additional second spent in discussion physically pained her. However, she also knew she would need Martek’s help if this plan was to succeed, so she shoved away her fatigue and annoyance and decided to give him simple honesty.

“No, I’m _not_ sure… But this is what must be done. It’s the only possible way to save him, and besides… Octavia says she trusts him. What other choice do we have?”

Their captive – Lincoln, he had said his name was – watched them with focused, intelligent eyes as they spoke, his gaze missing nothing. Martek glanced over at the man whose chains he still held and scowled, distrust clear in his darkly tanned face.

“Trust has nothing to do with it,” he said, lowering his voice and stepping closer so that his words were for her ears only, slipping into the _Skaibona_ slang to make it harder for the other man to easily understand. “This man considers us his enemy… It was _his_ poisoned knife that cut the prince. He would say anything he needed to say in order to save his own life, and he knows _we_ would say anything we needed to say in order to convince him to help us. I watched his eyes when you told him that we are here to negotiate a peace treaty between our people… Whatever he might say, he doesn’t actually _believe_ us. The first chance he gets he will either try to escape, or try to kill us both. Surely you know this?”

Clarke looked over at Lincoln, her eyes taking in his fierce musculature and warrior’s physique. The heavy iron shackles and chains on his wrists should have made her feel more secure in his company, but she knew all too well that someone as deadly as him could easily turn those very chains into weapons to be used against them. As long as he was conscious and up on his own two feet, the man was dangerous. Martek was right… Whatever Octavia’s feelings about her former captor, they would still be foolish to blindly trust him to lead them to the cure.

“We don’t have a choice. If he tries to escape, then you and I will just have to be enough to stop him… And once we have the antidote, we won’t need him any longer.”

“And that’s yet another problem,” Martek added, seeming unconvinced. “What guarantee do we have that he will give us the true antidote when we get there and not just more of his poisons?

“We have me. I’ve seen this antidote before… We won’t need to trust his word. I’ll be able to identify it, don’t worry about that,” she said with confidence, feeling certain that it was true. The immediate events which had led to her imprisonment over six months before were emblazoned with crystalline clarity in her memories. After risking so much to possess it, it would have taken a lot more than bad food and a few months in a cell for her to forget how this particular medicine had looked and smelled. Once Lincoln led them to his supplies, if the antidote was there, she would be able to find it.

Martek still seemed worried, his brow deeply furrowed as he considered her. He glanced at the prisoner once more, a darker expression taking over his face as he stared at him that seemed at odds with the cheerful, pleasant countenance she normally knew him to wear. It was the face an enemy would see glaring back at them in battle, not the face of a friend. All at once, Clarke was reminded of the fact that she really knew very little about this warrior and his twin sister.

 “Clarke… I’ve fought against _Trikru_ before. Many times. What their Clan lacks in numbers, they make up for in trickery. They don’t fight like _Azgeda_ , like the _Skaibona_. They don’t fight like honorable warriors... Not if they can help it. Trickery, traps, disease, poisons… This is how they win, how they survive. For all we know, this could just be another trap to lure us further into his territory… I ask you, what do we do then?”

Clarke met his gaze steadily. She knew the stakes were high, their chances of success slim. This was not a plan she would have willingly embraced under usual circumstance, but the brutally pragmatic part of her told her that they didn’t have any other choice. Either Lincoln would lead them to the cure, or Bellamy – her friend and Octavia’s brother, and the last living prince of the Sky Born – would die, and any chance of peace between their people would be destroyed before the seed had even had a chance to be planted. Their friends encamped and waiting nearby would likely be discovered, if they hadn’t been already, and with Echo leading them Clarke didn’t doubt that many would die. Her resolve hardened, and her steely blue eyes met his brown ones in a look that clearly showed the measure of her commitment.

“Then we kill him.”

She said the words loud enough that their prisoner could easily hear her, and she put all of her unflinching determination into her voice as she spoke. Martek leaned back slightly as her words filled the air between them and hung there, heavy with promise, then nodded slowly, a small smile turning up the corners of his mouth, his eyes regarding her with a newfound respect.  Though all _Azgeda_ were taught the basics of fighting as matter of necessity, he knew she was no warrior. Perhaps he had feared that as a trained healer, she would not willingly kill another, and that her reluctance might put them both at risk. If so, then her harsh words had just put those fears somewhat to rest.

“Very well,” he said, “We best be leaving, then.”

Clarke nodded in turn, and Martek pulled the prisoner further out and away from the cave. Just as he did so, Octavia and Riva appeared, coming to stand next to Clarke and watching as Lincoln and the _Skaibona_ warrior began to pick their way down the ravine with the prisoner leading the way.

“Make him drink water whenever he wakes up, and if you can, get him to drink some of that tea I left you… It’s important you keep him hydrated and cool. His fever is going to keep getting worse until he gets the antidote, but he’s strong... If it’s as close as Lincoln claims, we should be back in plenty of time.”

As Clarke recited her instructions for the second time, she realized she was repeating herself from earlier and forced herself to stop. The two women knew what to do. With her twisted ankle still slowing her down, Octavia was forced to stay behind and take care of Bellamy as best she could until they returned with the antidote. Riva had wanted to go with her brother, but after some discussion Clarke had been able to convince her to remain as well. Martek was best capable of physically handling and subduing their prisoner should he try something, and besides, Octavia would need help constructing a litter to carry the wounded Bellamy. Also, if the cave came under attack, Riva would be their only real defense, and if they were forced to make a run for it, she would be the one best able to lead them back to their own people swiftly and unseen. Everyone knew their part of the plan, but she couldn’t help the worry and doubt that now assaulted her after Martek’s warnings. Visions of her father dying on her mother’s healing table raced through her mind, and she worked to banish the image, knowing that she needed to stay grounded in the present moment, not lost in memories of past failures and heartache.

“We’ve got it, Clarke… Just get your ass moving already and bring back that cure, okay?” Octavia growled, her eyes flashing under dark brows.

She nodded, then turned to Riva.

“If we’re not back by sunset…”

“Then we leave your ass behind, but we’re not going to have to do that, because you’re going to be back here in just a couple hours with that damn cure!” Octavia interrupted, stepping between them now, impatience and genuine concern warring in her voice. “Clarke, we know the plan. Just get moving, okay? Bellamy needs… _I_ need… Whatever it takes, you’ve got to get that antidote, alright? Oh, and don’t die.”

Clarke couldn’t stop the small smile that formed on her lips at this, despite the situation and her own anxiety. She shared a look with the tracker, and the woman nodded silently to her, an understanding passing between them. Riva knew what she was doing in these woods. She would look after the younger girl and keep her out of trouble.

“Well… alright. We’ll be back soon, then,” she said, and turned from the two young women to follow after Martek and Lincoln, who were now nearly twenty feet ahead of her further down the ravine.

As she joined the two men, she only glanced back once towards the cave, and when she did so, she saw nothing but the black darkness of the empty cavern mouth staring back at her. Turning back again to the slowly brightening horizon, Clarke took another determined step forward to meet the dawn and her fate…

… Whatever they both might bring.

 

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“What do you think?” Aden whispered, his young voice soft in her ear where they crouched together in the lush, green undergrowth, a slow, light drizzle of rain still splattering the leaves and branches around them and plastering their wet hair to the foreheads. Lexa didn’t speak for several moments, but continued to study the muddy ground in front of them, her brows furrowed in concentration. She was exceptionally skilled at tracking, but even the poorest tracker of her Clan would have had no difficulty spotting this trail in the forest. After the heavy rain brought down by the storm that evening, the ground was soft and wet, and created easy tracks to follow no matter how carefully one stepped. Before them were three sets of prints in the mud, all forming a single trail that first drifted in front of, then turned and angled off to the right of the deer path Lexa and the other young Sky People were currently following.

 A few muttered voices behind them rose slowly in volume and Lexa turned to look back at the teens who were similarly crouched in the bushes nearby. Seeing her glare, the offenders quickly closed their mouths and looked contrite, their eyes shying away from her accusatory gaze. They had only been traveling away from the underground vault for less than an hour, and already she had been forced to snarl at them for silence more than once.

_Those damn weapons have made them too confident…_

Each of the teens now clutched in their hands a black rifle loaded with a twenty round magazine, and the mood of the group had noticeably shifted from frightened of encountering Reapers, to a slight air of eagerness for violence that both pleased and worried her simultaneously. Clearly the kids felt much more confident about being outside in the forest now that they had such deadly weapons under their command, but that confidence had translated into more talking, joking, and generally making too much noise by her measure. Judging by these tracks, other people were almost certainly very nearby, and there was no way of knowing if they were a threat or not.

 _Anyone who isn’t us is a threat,_ she reminded herself, Anya’s lessons from her youth echoing in her mind.

Though she had never shared that particular bit of wisdom with Clarke, somehow she suspected that the other woman would have argued the point with her, perhaps by saying something like, _“If you treat everyone as a threat, Lexa, then aren’t you just forcing them to become one whether they wanted to or not?”_ … or something similar. No doubt she would have said it with that soft, challenging tone she used when she thought Lexa was being too inflexible, too narrow-minded, too bound by the violent and savage beliefs that had shaped her people for generations. The thought of the imagined argument between them made her want to smile, and she forced herself to focus back on the task at hand.

Lexa looked back down at the tracks, her eyes’ attention caught by what looked to be a smaller pair of boots. Judging strictly from the size and depth of the different prints, she estimated that the people who had formed them were two men and one woman. The possibility of the third being a woman concerned her… Whether by choice or necessity, the Mountain Men did not make women into Reapers. Therefore, either these were the tracks of _Trikru_ scouts patrolling the borders of their lands, or they were Reapers leading a female prisoner back to the Mountain. She felt a flash of brief concern that it might be one of their own taken from the dropship camp while they were gone, but a closer examination of the print allayed that concern. The treads of the strange footwear all of the Sky People wore were unique and vastly different from those of the Clans, leaving an imprint that was oddly uniform and easily distinguishable. Whoever she was, this woman was clearly not _Skaikru_ , and neither apparently were the two men.

Regardless, the small group was clearly close by and Lexa didn’t like not knowing who they were or what their intentions might be.

She still hadn’t answered his earlier question and Aden continued to watch her patiently. Rather than say anything, Lexa instead turned back to the group, her eyes seeking out Miller. He and Jones were both crouched together nearby, each of the young men watching her with interest, and she motioned them both forward. Seeing Roma also nearby and steadily looking back at her, she beckoned the girl forward to join them as well. The older girl was one of the most physically fit of the bunch and had already proven herself once by saving Lexa’s life. Plus, from what she had seen so far, she moved well in the forest and seemed to have a keen pair of eyes. She felt she could trust her to keep her head, stay quiet, and follow her instructions.

“What’s the word, boss?” Jones whispered cheerfully once they were all huddled together, a wide grin stretching across the dark features of his face, his teeth flashing white in the gloom of the forest.

“Aden, Miller, I want you two to keep leading the rest of the group back to the dropship with the supplies as quickly and quietly as you can. Jones, Roma and I are going to follow these tracks for a little ways and see if we can’t find out who they belong to,” she informed them, and she felt the tension in the small group ratchet up a few notches as they took in her words.

“But… _Heda_ ,” Aden started, a slight look of worry now stealing across his young, pale face, though it was beginning to show signs of a tan once more. In fact, all of the young Skaikru were starting to lose some of the unusual paleness of their space-born skin. “Earlier you said we’d be safest in a big group, that we shouldn’t get separated. If these tracks are from Reapers…”

“Then we need to know whether or not they are on their way to lead an even bigger force against us,” she interrupted, but without any bite in the words.

Lexa wasn’t angry with him for questioning her. Rather, she appreciated his caution, as well as the fact that he was thinking both critically and tactically about their situation. It was true that she was taking a risk with this decision… but sometimes a leader needed to take risks or they could never hope to secure an advantage. Besides, something inside her insisted that these tracks were important. She needed to know who had made them, and why, and for reasons she couldn’t clearly articulate. Normally she would have attributed this instinctual certainty as coming from the internal guidance of the Spirit inside her, and she would not have hesitated to follow it, but she wasn’t sure she could claim such now. Not when it had been nothing but silent since she had died and been awoken here. Still, she was used to following her instincts, and they were all screaming at her to discover more about the source of these tracks.

“I agree with your brother,” Miller added, the caution in his voice and the dark scruff which had sprouted up on his unshaven face making the young thief both look and sound older than his seventeen years. “When you’ve just scored big and gotten away with it, it’s easy to want to ride the high and try to get even more, but that’s exactly the kind of thinking that gets you caught… We got what we came out here for… Why go chasing after trouble now?”

“You’re on the ground now, Miller,” she said, standing to her full height and pulling free her sword from her back. “Trouble finds you here whether you want it to or not… Sometimes it’s best to find it first and take it by surprise when you can.”

She turned to Roma and Jones and the two stood as well, rifles clenched in their rain-soaked hands. Jones had threaded his axe through his belt, but Roma had been forced to leave her crude spear behind in the vault, unable to carry both that as well as her rifle and other supplies.  

“Are you both with me?” she asked them simply, one elegant dark eyebrow arching in a way that somehow defied them to answer in the negative. They both nodded with a smile. Jones’ smile was characteristically cheerful, while Roma’s was a bit nervous, but they both seemed ready and willing to follow her. Quickly, she gave them her instructions – chiefly that they stay quiet and follow her lead, and only fire their weapons if they absolutely needed to – then turned back to Aden and Miller, leveling her confident gaze on both of them.

“Just keep them moving back to the dropship. Either we will follow you and catch up shortly, or we’ll just make our way back on our own.”

Aden nodded reluctantly, but Miller stood and stepped closer, his brows furrowed.

“Black, if you’re going to do this, then at least take a gun for yourself.”

Lexa looked down at the naked blade in her hand, then over at the extra weapons currently being carried by several of the larger teens. No one had raised an eyebrow when Aden didn’t pick up a weapon for himself earlier. Despite his demonstrated skill and deadliness during the earlier battle, he was still quite young by their standards, and they all seemed strangely determined to willfully ignore just how dangerous he truly was. Perhaps it had seemed appropriate to most of them that such a young boy not be allowed to carry a rifle. When _Lexa_ had also not picked up one of the weapons, however, more than a few eyebrows had been raised. When Miller had asked for her reasons, she had explained loudly that the quiet, sharp edge of her sword was more likely to be of immediate use in the dense forest than a rifle would. And besides, they all knew how deadly she was with her blade. Why waste ammo when a few cuts with a sword would do? After that, no one had said a word to her about her choice in weapons, their eyes drawn to the blood stains that still decorated many of their clothes from carrying away the dead bodies of the Reapers she had killed.

“As I said before, I don’t need it, and there’s no time to argue. We’re going… _Now_ ,” she ordered, her words a low but firm growl so as not to carry too far. “The rest of you get going back to camp… And Miller,” she added, meeting his eyes, “Listen to Aden.”

The young man nodded, then turned back to the others and gestured them onwards with a raised arm while Lexa and the others disappeared into the brush, following the tracks. He stepped to the front to join Aden, and he didn’t miss the look of concern that the boy shot over his shoulder at his older sister’s retreating back.

“She’ll be alright,” he reassured him softly, though he himself was worried and he wasn’t sure he completely believed the words. “It would take more than just a few Reapers to kill your sister, I think.”

Aden glanced up at him, a strangely feral and intense look in his blue eyes. Miller almost stepped back, reminded suddenly of how this young boy had stabbed and thrust fearlessly with his spear when the Reapers had attacked, helping his sister and Lincoln to kill and wound quite a few of the men before the battle was over.

“I am not afraid… Death is not the end,” the boy said fervently, both the words themselves and something about the peculiar way he said them unsettling Miller even further. Aden turned and walked away, presumably leading them the quickest way back towards camp, and Miller and the others could do nothing but follow silently.

In the nearby brush, Lexa slid deeper into the forest with first Roma, then Jones following in a single file, their eyes darting in every direction at once and muscle’s tensing at every rustle and snap of branches. After several long minutes of creeping stealthily forward, a flash of movement in the forest ahead caught Lexa’s eye and she froze, the two behind her immediately following suit.

The shadows of three figures passed over a low ridge a short ways distant, sliding out of view on the other side almost as soon as they were spotted. The moment she saw them, the rain stopped suddenly and completely, as though a switch had been flipped.

Overhead, the clouds began to part.

 

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Lincoln knew they were being followed.

He stomped down in the mud, his boot leaving an obvious print on an open patch of ground lit by the sun that was now poking through the faltering clouds overhead, his neck stiff from resisting the urge to turn and look for their pursuers. The two _Azgeda_ currently holding him prisoner had so far not seemed to notice that they were being stalked, and he was loathe to do anything that might give it away. Those following them, whoever they might be and whatever their intentions, were likely his best chance for escape.

His “companions” – a lean, quiet warrior with tawny brown hair, his face painted in a haunting mask of white, and the golden-haired healer who had earlier done most of the talking, and whom the others seemed to defer to despite her younger age – were both walking behind him and watching him with a wary intensity that he could feel between his shoulder blades. It was clear they didn’t trust him, and likely part of the reason they had yet to notice their pursuers was because they were both so preoccupied with keeping a cautious eye on him. The warrior who held his chains seemed much more comfortable in the forest than the healer did, and he didn’t doubt that the man was considered an accomplished woodsman by his own people in the Ice Nation. However, Lincoln had been born beneath these trees… He had been raised in their dappled shade, and the usual sounds of the forest had been his nursery rhymes. An _Azgeda_ from the cold and rock-strewn lands to the north, no matter their skill, could never hope to reach his level of ability, which training and experience had honed to a sharp point somewhere between art and instinct.

Lincoln snapped a wet branch under his foot, the muffled crack of it just loud enough to carry through the trees. His fingers clenched around the chains that looped through the heavy metal cuffs on his wrists, his muscles tightening in preparation.

He risked a glance over his shoulder and just caught a glimpse of a distant shadow as it darted behind a tree several dozen paces back.

_When they make their move, I’ll make mine…_

 

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Lexa worked to control her breathing as she ducked down into a crouch next to a large clumping of ferns, her hand outstretched behind her in a halting motion, signaling Jones and Roma to do the same. Her green eyes stared hard at the stretch of forest ahead of them, her vision straining to see any hint of movement. The sun was peeking out more frequently now, its light coming and going through the trunks and branches in a flicker that lit up patches of greenery for several long seconds before disappearing once more. It had her nervous and on edge. She would have much preferred that it had kept raining, as the darkness and constant sound would have helped to conceal their presence to those they followed. As it was, the damp, water-logged ground and leaves were nevertheless proving helpful in countering the occasional, bumbling missteps of the two young _Skaikru_ she had brought with her. Slowly and painstakingly, over the course of an hour they had successfully worked their way closer to the three strangers whose trail they still followed, though she had yet to catch more than just swift, dark flashes of them through the trees.

After waiting several seconds, Lexa glanced back at her companions and motioned for them to follow her once more.

“We’re close now,” she whispered, and she saw them both tense even more at her words. “Stay quiet and step where I step.”

She’d turned back to the trail and only taken a few paces when she heard the muffled snap of a branch ahead of them, and the sound made her freeze. It was closer than she had been expecting. In dense forests like these, it was all too easy to walk up on your prey earlier than you expected, especially if they had stopped. Her eyes immediately flew in the direction of the sound and her breath sucked in at what she saw.

It was Lincoln. His large form was unmistakable, his shaven head and the slash of his tattoos clearly visible and seeming to glow like a beacon in a shaft of bright sunlight. He was there, ahead of them in the forest, his head turning to look back along his trail. Though it was too far for their eyes to truly meet, Lexa still felt the impact of his gaze as though he were standing right in front of her. For a moment, her heart lifted in sudden relief.

The outline of two other forms appeared next to him, the pale gray of their leather and furs seeming oddly out of place next to Lincoln’s dark woodland garb. The sun glinted and sparkled off his wrists. Propelled by instinct, Lexa darted behind the nearest tree, ducking down so that she couldn’t be seen. Behind her, Jones and Roma each crouched down just as quickly, their eyes wide and trained on her.

_He was chained…_

Lincoln’s wrists had been bound by iron shackles and chained. Despite the fact that she had only caught the briefest of glimpses through the trees, she was certain of it. And what was worse…

_Azgeda._

The name of her oldest enemy was a snarl in her mind, and somewhere deep within her she felt the buried rage come to life, warming her from the inside out. Though she hadn’t been able to see them clearly, there was no mistaking the color and style of their clothing, and the simple fact that they were holding Lincoln prisoner was almost proof enough. As her own beloved people of the Woods Clan existed in this world, so too apparently did the Ice Nation, and undoubtable they were just as ruthless, deceitful, and bent on domination here as they had been in her own reality. Lexa felt her anger twist her stomach and her hand clenched around her sword hilt as she fought to control her emotions, the knuckles bone-white.

A dozen thoughts raced through her mind in quick succession. The burned and abandoned village she and Aden had discovered… Had that been simple misfortune? The evil work of the Mountain Men and their monstrous pets? Or had it in fact been an _Azgeda_ war party that killed them all and set fire to their homes? Were they sworn enemies of _Trigeda_ , or was there another reason they had taken Lincoln prisoner? For that matter, how had they managed to capture him, and when?

More importantly, how in the name of all the spirits could she ever hope to make peaceful negotiations with _Trikru_ without Lincoln?  

Lexa closed her eyes and took a deep breath, banishing her overcrowded thoughts with a swift burst of will. A calm stole over her, and with it a sense of crystal clear purpose that seemed to shine brightly in her mind, leading her down the only path of action that was truly available to her. Certainty filled her and she opened her eyes, finding Jones and Roma still there before her, both ready and waiting.

Only a few short seconds had passed since she had seen Lincoln, witnessed his captivity, and identified his probable captors, but for the Commander of the Twelve Clans, a few short seconds was all she needed.

She made her decision.

 

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Pushing her damp, bedraggled, and woefully dirty hair out of her face for what must be the hundredth time that morning, Clarke spared only a half a second towards missing the wonderful bath she had taken in the Ice Queen’s fortress so many days ago before she was rudely brought back to the present by nearly colliding with Martek, who had just suddenly slowed and half turned in front of her. Managing to stop just in time, something about the tense line of his shoulders and the tilt of his head had her hand reaching instinctively for the longknife sheathed across the center of her lower back.

“What is it?” she whispered in their native slang, her eyes immediately going to their prisoner. After the briefest of pauses, Martek shook his head slightly and started walking again just as Lincoln reached the end of his short length of chain. A few more seconds passed before the warrior answered her.

“I think we’re being followed,” he said, also softly and in the same language. Clarke felt a frisson of alarm run up and down her spine, and it was difficult not to stop again and start scanning the trees all around them. Instead, she gripped her knife more securely and moved to walk beside him, keeping her eyes carefully ahead of her.

“How many?”

“At least three, maybe more.”

“Friends of his?” she asked.

“Don’t know… Could be.”

Clarke considered this. If not _Trikru_ , then who else could it be? There was an obvious alternative, of course, and she felt another shiver travel down her spine at the possibility of there being the dreaded, cannibalistic Reapers so close on their trail.

Assuming Martek was right, and she’d had no reasons to doubt his abilities up to this point, then whoever they were, Clarke knew they wouldn’t be content with just following them for long. She saw Lincoln’s head turn slightly as though to better hear something in the distance, and she wondered if he too had picked up on the fact that they were no longer alone. _Had_ he been leading them into a trap after all, as Martek had warned? She thought back to the moment earlier that morning when he had finally agreed to help them retrieve the cure and wondered if this hadn’t been his intention all along… Octavia had seemed so certain that he could be trusted, and Clarke had let her fear of watching someone else she cared about die a slow, painful death from that damned _Trigeda_ poison blind her.

There was the slightest rustle of branches behind them and Clarke’s hand twitched as she resisted the urge to draw her blade. A second later, she heard another noise somewhere off to the left, and her sense of uneasy anticipation grew. Both sounds could have simply been a rabbit or a squirrel… or they could have been a half dozen warriors creeping closer, surrounding them, weapons drawn.

“Can we fight them?” she asked. They were still walking, but their pace had increased almost without them intending it to, and she noticed that Martek had let one hand drop from their prisoner’s chains so that he could grip his sword hilt.

“We should cut our losses and get out of here now, before it’s too late,” Martek muttered, his head swiveling right, then left as he listened. Lincoln seemed to have noticed now that something had changed, and she saw his intelligent eyes flick down once at the single hand still holding his chains.

Time seemed to pick up its pace. Sweat started to pour down Clarke’s back despite the fact that it was still a far cooler morning than it had been in many days. She could almost see her carefully made plans spinning and tumbling away and out of her control. Soon, whoever was stalking them would attack, and even if they survived the encounter, there was little chance they would be able to re-capture and subdue Lincoln once more. Without him, they would never find where he kept his supplies and his store of the antidote, assuming of course that anything he had said earlier to Octavia and herself was even true. Bellamy would die, and the two of them would be lucky to escape from here with their lives.

_No… No, damnit! This can’t happen… I refuse to fail this time. We can’t let them take him!_

Clarke felt a pulse of angry determination flow through her. Her father’s agonized, dying face filled her vision, then Octavia’s pleading expression as she ordered Clarke to get the cure and save her foolish, stubborn, pig-headed brother. At the thought of him, Bellamy’s dark features also appeared and took on the same painful grimace her father’s had just before he had drawn his last painful breath…

“ _Clarke!_ ” Martek hissed, still whispering under his breath but now much more urgently so, “Clarke, there’s no time! If we’re going to go, we need to go _now_!”

Another soft rustle of leaves sounded nearby, and not hesitating for even a second, Clarke drew her longknife and leapt forward, her free hand reaching down to grip the chain that now hung loosely in Martek’s single fist. With a speed and ferocity that she herself previously wouldn’t have thought she possessed, Clarke pulled hard on the chain, catching Lincoln by surprise in mid step, yanking him off balance and back towards her. Still holding the chain tightly with her right, and with her left hand clenching her knife, Clarke brought the edge of the blade up to Lincoln’s throat, pressing a sharp line against tender, exposed skin and forcing his head backwards to keep from getting cut. Her prisoner let out a surprised breath and pulled against the chain she now held, no doubt seeking to overpower her, but she simply shoved the knife harder against his throat until a thin line of blood appeared, and he immediately stopped.

“We’re not going anywhere without him!” she snarled, almost shouting in defiance.

No sooner had the words left her lips than several figures burst from the undergrowth behind them.

 

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There.

They were right there, just twenty or so paces in front of them and moving into a slightly open area in the trees. Knowing they needed to act quickly, that every moment they continued to follow them so closely only increased the chances that they would be noticed, Lexa turned to her two companions and nodded, just a single, confident lift of her chin. For once, Jones didn’t cheerfully smile back at her. Instead, he nodded with a focused expression and lifted his rifle a bit awkwardly, seating the butt of the weapon into his shoulder just as Miller had demonstrated earlier that morning, his thumb flicking off the safety. After a moment’s pause, Roma did the same, and the two moved to either side of her.

Lexa took a breath and was about to whisper some final instructions when a flurry of movement ahead of them made her lift her head in surprise.

Seeing both of Lincoln’s captors for the first time as they both entered the small, shaded clearing, Lexa watched as one of the _Azgeda_ – the smaller of the two, a woman with light hair of a nondescript color and wielding only a very long knife – suddenly attacked the bound and defenseless _Trikru_ warrior.

_No!_

Abandoning her carefully laid plans of attack in an instant, Lexa jumped out from their hiding place and rushed forward through the undergrowth, uncaring of the racket she was making. Clearly, the Azgeda had realized they were being followed. Being that they were still, as far as she knew, in Trigeda lands, the pair wouldn’t hesitate to slit Lincoln’s throat before either turning to fight them or making a run for it. If they didn’t act now, Lincoln would be lost to them.

She heard Roma running behind her on her left side, and Jones’ big, muscled form thundering through the dense foliage behind her on her right. She prayed that they had understood her brief instructions earlier and would remember them now, though the circumstances had somewhat changed. She’d been hoping to avoid using the noisy rifles during Lincoln’s rescue, as she hadn’t wanted to attract the attention of Reapers or anyone else, but battle rarely afforded one the courtesy of going exactly as one liked. Breaking into the small clearing just a few short seconds later, Lexa drew her sword up in front of her so as to be ready to deflect an immediate attack and let her momentum carry her several steps more before she skidded to a halt.

Lexa blinked.

The sun shone down into the small clearing and lit the scene before her. A dangerous looking Azgeda warrior stood several paces in front of her and slightly to her left, the white war paint decorating his face erasing any doubt as to what Clan he belonged to. A couple feet behind him and directly in her line of site was Lincoln, the angry flash of a blade glimmering below the upwards tilted line of his jaw, his eyes narrowed with tension and anger as he glared back at her, though a look of faint relief passed across his features when he realized who she was.

She blinked again, her body frozen, her vision swimming from the light and the pure shock of what she was seeing. Slowly, her eyes traced the line of the blade against Lincoln’s throat to the pale, thin hand firmly gripping its hilt… Down the length of the forearm to the elbow, back to the left shoulder and chest, which was clothed in the muted grays and light browns that dominated among members of the Ice Nation _._ The neck, where it rose above the folds of clothing still damp from the earlier rain, was equally pale, though there was a hint of sunburn, which for some reason Lexa’s stunned mind insisted on noticing. Then, the chin… That chin and jaw, which she remembered so well. Those cheekbones, that nose, those lips… Her gaze skittered uncomprehendingly over the faint tracery of decorative scars that made strange, unfamiliar patterns along either side of her face, her thoughts feeling slow and dumb, her mind not understanding what she was seeing…

Blue eyes. Eyes staring back at her that were so blue and so fierce with determination that Lexa’s breath caught in a ragged gasp and her heart abruptly started beating once more.

_Clarke…!_

Roma and Jones crashed into the clearing right behind her, both breathing hard from the combined effects of exertion, adrenaline and fear.  

Stepping to either side of her, they raised their rifles.

 

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_Hello there,_

_Yes, it’s me, I am alive and still writing this story. I know it’s been a little while since I last posted, but guys… Summer. Summer is here, and it’s awesome! Also, it’s really cramped my writing style. So much easier to spend hours wrapped in blankets writing fanfiction when there is a foot of snow outside, but lucky for all of you, I hear that winter is due back in just a few months, so my writing will probably pick up again then. Until then, I will just have to keep sneaking some rainy day writing sessions in when I can._

_Anyways, super happy to finally write this chapter and I hope you all enjoyed it. Our girls are back together again, hooray! But they are all pointing weapons at each other at the moment, which is of course sad, lol. Next chapter should be lots of fun. I’m missing writing Anya, Raven, and the rest of the gang (but mostly Anya), so I can’t wait to loop back to them and the rest of the story as well. Still have a standoff to resolve first, though (don’t worry, I won’t leave that cliffhanger hanging for another chapter… that would be mean). Clarke and Lexa are about to have some… well, let’s just call it Post-Apocalyptic Extreme Couples Therapy, lol._

_Thanks for reading! I hope you are still enjoying the story._ _J_

_-FlyUpInSky_


	19. Friend or Foe

A dull knock sounded through the tarnished metal of the hatch door leading to his private chambers, and Chancellor Thelonious Jaha raised his head from the reports he had been reading to peer in the direction of the sound. A glance at the clock hanging on the wall beside him confirmed the time and he frowned thoughtfully, tapping the controls on his workstation to bring up the live security feed for the hallway camera. When Jaha saw who it was waiting just outside, her hand still raised impatiently as though already preparing to knock a second time, he allowed himself a small smile that on this occasion, at least, the difficult woman had wisely deigned to be a few minutes early. He hadn’t expected her for at least another ten minutes. Not bothering to rise, he closed the video feed with a swipe of his fingers, then reached over with his other hand to key the switch that remotely unlocked the outer hatch. Though he couldn’t see the door from his inner office, he knew his guest had entered when he heard the handle turn with the painful screech that was normal for most of the aged metal hatchways of the century old Ark.

Straightening himself in his chair, the Chancellor folded his hands neatly in front of him and schooled his face into what he hoped was a pleasantly neutral expression. Anticipation rose within him as he listened, mentally tracking her progress as she made her way across the main room and towards his office, her elegant heels clicking loudly against the floor.  This was a meeting he had been contemplating for the last two days and it was critical that it go well. A moment later, the sculpted cheekbones and tall, slim form of the Polaris Station Representative came into view, and Jaha unconsciously straightened even further in his chair and had to repress the automatic urge to scowl. Not pausing in the entryway as many others might have done, Anya gracefully slipped into his private office and nodded to him, not a hint of hesitation in her calm, unworried demeanor.

“Chancellor,” she said, giving him a polite, distant smile that did nothing to soften the sharply beautiful angles of her face.

“Representative Petrova,” he replied, forcing his lips into a pleasant smile as well. “Thank you for joining me.”

As the only person on the Ark who held a dual status as both a Station Representative and a member of the Council, it would have perhaps been more appropriate for him to address her using the title of “Councilwoman”, as that was her higher office. However, from that very first day she was elected to her position on Polaris almost six years ago, Jaha had made a point of only ever referring to her by that title during the Council meetings themselves. Though her claim to the Council seat was perfectly legal and in accordance with the Charter, it irked him nevertheless. At the time he couldn’t help but view her as an unwanted interloper, and that feeling hadn’t diminished over the years. It also hadn’t helped that her predecessor – an older man who had held the position for several decades and had already been on the Council when Jaha himself came into office – had been much more amiable and easy to work with.  Rather than take offense to his subtle disregard for her position on his Council, however, the woman instead seemed to enjoy it. Indeed, he suspected that she found more pride in her position as the Polaris Station Representative than she did as a member of the Ark’s highest governing body. Though she hid her distain for him and many of the other Council members well, he still imagined that he could sense it there, silently mocking him from beneath her carefully polished surface.

“When the Chancellor of the Ark requests your presence, one can hardly refuse, can they?” Anya said in a playful tone, though the humor never reached her eyes.

As he had not yet invited her to sit, she remained standing in the center of the room, his desk and an unmeasurable gulch of mutual distrust and dislike separating them. For almost any other person on the Ark, being summoned to the Chancellor’s office might have been cause for great alarm. After everything that had happened over the past two days – as well as the fact that she had recently spent many hours isolated in an interrogation cell – she should have every reason to be nervous. Rather than uncomfortable, however, the damn woman looked perfectly at ease and relaxed. As ever, she seemed to defy any attempt he made to put her at the disadvantage. As the stalemate dragged on for several long, silent moments, Jaha inwardly sighed in defeat, then gestured for her to take one of the two available chairs.

“Please, take a seat. With everything that’s been happening, we have a great deal to discuss and not much time.”

“It has been an eventful few days,” she agreed with dry amusement, moving to the chair he had offered. Anya slid into her seat with unconscious grace, her agile fingers dancing along the hem of her long, thin skirt as though to smooth away any possible wrinkles in the fabric, though none existed.  

“Now that the general population has learned the real truth about the dropship launch, I imagine you’ve had your hands full simply maintaining order. How can Polaris Station be of assistance, Chancellor?”

He studied her for a moment, letting the silence lengthen and watching for any hint of what might be going on in the mind of the consummate politician sitting across from him, unsurprised when he found nothing discernable. The woman was too good. She would never give anything away to an enemy unless it was forced out of her, and over the course of both their careers they had been each other’s political opponents more often than not. Anya didn’t trust him, that much was clear, and he had never been able to bring himself to trust her _or_ Polaris. There were just too many unanswered questions surrounding both of them. Now, with the most recent events of the past two days, there were even more questions he wanted answered. If this was going to work, however, and if the people of the Ark were going to be saved, _all_ of the people of the Ark, then their contentious relationship was going to have to change. He hoped that could begin starting now.

“First, Ms. Petrova, let me begin by saying that I have ordered all pending investigations pertaining to you and Polaris Station by the Office of Ark Security to be dropped, and I have also already given orders to the Office of Justice that no charges are to be placed against you. As of this moment, you are no longer officially under suspicion of any wrongdoing and remain fully reinstated as a member of the Council.”

Anya did not visibly react to his words and Jaha paused for a moment longer, waiting to see if she would say anything. When she didn’t, he continued.

“As for the matter of the most recent Council vote that took place in your absence, I would like to add that I personally feel it was very unfortunate that you were detained during such a moment of crisis on the Ark… I know we haven’t always agreed on policy in the past, but I think I’m correct in saying that neither one of us wanted to see the population reduction go forward so soon. Not while there was still hope for the surface mission.”

He paused, letting his gaze stray to the small window that looked down upon the swirling green and blue orb of the Earth below, his thoughts momentarily straying to his son, Wells, alive somewhere down on the surface. Bringing his eyes back to hers, Jaha continued.

 “I think we both know what Kane’s intentions were that day, and I suspect things would have gone very differently had you been present to cast your vote.” He sighed and shook his head, his brows furrowing as he allowed himself to feel a moment of mingled frustration and regret. “As Chief of Security, Kane reports to me, and therefore his actions are ultimately my responsibility. I hope you can accept my apology, Anya… I should have seen what he was planning and put a stop to it.”

She listened as he spoke, not interrupting and with no discernable change in expression. After extending his verbal olive branch, he paused again to give her a chance to speak, and for a moment her smile briefly turned genuine when she finally replied.

 “I think Marcus surprised us all with his political acumen that day… You were certainly not the only one he outmaneuvered,” she said, a hint of self-deprecation in her tone, which was something he had not often heard from her before.

Of course, he reminded himself, being detained in a holding cell for twenty-four hours had probably given her more than enough time to contemplate her own mistakes. He would consider it a happy accident if the experience had succeeded in at least teaching the arrogant woman some humility.

“Indeed, it was a surprise, and I assure you that he will be dealt with, though I doubt any reprimand I could give him would compare to the punishment he is already giving himself right now… The weight of so many souls is a heavy burden for all of us, especially considering everything we now know about the true conditions on the ground. If what those kids are telling us is true, then everything we though we knew about the surface has been completely wrong. It’s astonishing!”

Jaha shook his head, remembering his own disbelief when he heard the latest transmissions from the surface. Though everyone else on the Ark was elated by the discovery of living survivors on the ground – or Grounders, as they were all starting to call them – Kane had not reacted well to the news. He wondered what Anya’s reaction had been when she had been told. It would have been immediately after she was released from isolation, of course. He eyed her thoughtfully, wondering if she had accepted his apology for her imprisonment and realizing he was not likely to get a truthful answer either way.

_She never makes anything easy…_

“Speaking of which,” he continued, and he felt her eyes narrow and focus on him as he segued into the topic they both knew was the real reason he had called her here today, “If what has happened over the past few days has taught us anything, it’s that perhaps we shouldn’t always assume that we are working at cross-purposes. I think the time is long overdue for you and I to begin to be honest with each other about certain things... Lay all our cards on the table, so to speak. For instance, I _know_ it was you and your people on Polaris who helped Raven Reyes get to the ground.”

Anya’s lips twitched almost imperceptibly when he said the name of the young mechanic and he knew that he had finally struck a nerve. That damn Reyes girl had shocked everyone with her Ark-wide broadcasts from the surface of the planet, and now there wasn’t a soul alive on the Ark who didn’t know they had been lied to by the Council. The reaction of the people to this news had been immediate and predictable. With one impossible broadcast that young woman had changed everything, and Jaha and the rest of the Council had spent the better part of the last two days trying to control the fallout.

Of course, what he and everyone else on the Ark all wanted to know was _how_ , exactly, she had pulled it off. In the somewhat limited radio communications they had so far had over the last day and a half, Reyes had refused to give any details as to how she had managed such an incredible feat. When pressed on the issue, she had continued to insist that she had worked alone, then threatened to cease communications entirely if they didn’t stop asking her about it.

In fact, if her remembered correctly, her exact threat had been, _“I’ve already told you a dozen times that I did this by myself_ , so _if you idiots waste any more of my damn time asking me how I got down here, I swear-to-God I will turn off this piece-of-crap radio and smash the transmitter with a rock!”_

It was ridiculous, of course. Reyes might be a gifted mechanic, sure, but he didn’t believe for a second that she had worked alone. Though Kane and his officers had failed to find anything damning in their search of Polaris, there was little doubt in either of their minds that Anya had somehow been involved. This entire plot stunk of her influence. In the end it came down to the simple fact that there was only one person on the Ark who was daring enough, intelligent enough, and possessing of enough of the necessary resources to pull off something as audacious as building a secret spaceship and launching it at the planet… Successfully, that is..

“If you are hoping to solicit some kind of confession, then I must say that this is a highly unusual tactic,” Anya said after the moment had lingered uncomfortably long, her eyes still watching him carefully as his suspicions raced through his mind.

“No, nothing of the sort,” he protested, shaking his head. “As I said earlier, all investigations into you have been dropped, and you are no longer officially under suspicion for any wrongdoing. I’m not trying to railroad you here, Anya,” he said, raising his hands palm up in a placating gesture when he saw her scowl. “Please don’t mistake my intentions. This isn’t some underhanded attempt at blackmail, or any other sinister purpose you are no doubt suspecting me of right now.”

Jaha shook his head, smiling a little at the puzzled frown that briefly crossed her face as she continued to study him intently. He pressed on.

“I know why you did it,” he said, leaning forward in his chair and hoping she could hear the sincerity in his voice, “and I know you probably won’t believe me when I say this, but I’m glad you did. It was a truly inspired idea. Getting that girl to the surface with a working radio might just end up being the catalyst that saves us all. I can’t even imagine how long you’ve been planning something like this… It must have taken months, years maybe, to construct a vessel capable of safely landing on the surface. To pull a plan like that off while keeping it completely hidden and leaving no evidence behind, it’s really quite impressive of you, Anya, and it demonstrates a level of foresight on your part that is almost frightening.”

He laughed softly in bemusement, as stunned now by the miraculous, impossible presence of Raven Reyes on the surface as he had been when he first heard her voice on the radio. Anya seemed unmoved by his words, though he did detect a hint of what might be surprise at his praise.

“Chancellor, I feel I must confess that I haven’t a solid clue what you are talking about,” Anya protested calmly, as he knew she would. “And to be frank,” she continued, a bit of iron entering her tone, her eyes locking on to his, “all of your outlandish suspicions and pointless flattering aside, don’t you think it’s about time that you stop dancing around the issue and tell me what exactly I am doing here?”

He felt his pleasant expression start to darken into a scowl at her impertinence, but he caught himself in time, taking a deep breath and nodding instead.

“Very well,” he began, “I suppose there is no need to beat around the bush. The reason I have asked you here today is really quite simple. Representative Petrova, you and I have been playing across from each other on this figurative chess board for far too long. If the last couple days has taught me anything, it’s that we may have far more goals in common than I ever previously thought. Had I known what you were planning with that Reyes girl, rather than stop you from sending her, I would have supported you! There wouldn’t have been need for all this cloak and dagger. Moreover, if the coming Exodus has any hope of being successful, we will need the full support of Polaris, just as you and your station will need the rest of the Ark.”

Jaha met her steady gaze, his eyes matching hers in intensity.

“This is it, Anya… This is the closing act. The survival of the human race, of our people on the Ark, is riding on the decisions we make in the coming days. There is no more room for petty political rivalries. No more room for secrets and mistrust. We will either all die, or all live, together. The Ark needs Polaris… and I need you.”

“What are you suggesting?” Anya asked, her tone thoughtful, her eyes glimmering beneath her slightly slanted lids as she frowned across the dimly lit space separating them.

“A partnership.”

“Partnership?”

“Or call it a political alliance, if that makes it sound better to you,” he shrugged, waving a hand. “It doesn’t matter to me what we call it, but I want us to start working _together_ for a change. To start trusting each other. With everything that’s going on, we really can’t afford not to. Our people can’t afford it either.”

“We have never worked well together in the past, Jaha,” she said, a smile twitching at the corner of her lips as she dropped his formal title. “What makes you think we could do so now?”

“Because now the lives of everyone on the Ark are truly at stake, and if there is one thing about you I have always trusted, it’s that you will do whatever is best for the people of Polaris Station.”

Another silence stretched and she continued to study him, her face thoughtful. Finally, a brief smile flashed into life on her lips and she leaned forward, extending her hand across his desk. As ever, her smile was more predatory than pleasant, and he suppressed a twinge of unease as he extended his own hand and their palms met in a handshake.

“Very well, Chancellor, a partnership it is,” she said, shaking his hand briskly before pulling away. Anya raised one cocky eyebrow, her grin turning into a more serious expression.

“Now, let’s talk about Exodus.”

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Soft green leaves rustled overhead, causing their dappled shadows to dance on the ground. In the near distance, a hawk screeched its hunting call, the sound knifing through the slight breeze and reaching the ears of those in the small forest clearing below. The sun glinted off of the knife at Lincoln’s throat, glowing like a hot ember trapped in the metal. Her blue eyes met hers; sharp, cold and pure. As cold and pure as the untouched, frozen heart of a glacier. With just that one glance, she ached to see those eyes melt again, to watch their gaze turn warm and intimate once more. Around her, the world’s clock seemed to turn almost in slow motion. The leaves whirled their languid dance. The hawk hovered immobile on the winds above. The knife pressed tightly to the _Trikru_ warrior’s exposed skin, a bead of red blood appearing on the blade and sliding slowly downwards. As time and shock played their tricks on her stunned mind and the world froze like a picture around them for several indeterminable moments, Lexa slid to a halt and stood, staring at Clarke, completely immobile in her surprise, her mind empty of all but one thought.

_Clarke!_

Roma and Jones crashed through the brush on either side of her and abruptly Lexa was thrown back into the immediacy of the current moment, time flying forwards again. Tearing her gaze from the miraculous sight in front of her, she glanced left towards the _Azgeda_ warrior who stood only three or four paces away, his sword out and raised between them, his body crouched in a fighter’s stance. Her gaze continued around to the left, quickly taking in Roma’s equally aggressive pose next to her. The girl’s face was white with combined fear and determination. Her finger shook where it pressed tightly to the trigger, but the muzzle of her weapon was pointed unwaveringly at the _Azgeda_ man confronting them. Lexa’s gaze didn’t linger and was already darting back around to her right, finding Jones standing ready at her other side, his weapon also raised and face rigid with concentration.

His finger, however, did not tremble where it waited ready on the trigger, and _his_ rifle was pointed directly at Clarke.

As her eyes registered the sight of someone pointing a loaded weapon at the woman she loved – for surely it _was_ Clarke, despite the fact that she was different in ways that Lexa couldn’t yet explain or fully comprehend – Lexa’s sword tip wavered and dropped slightly, all her earlier thoughts and plans instantly abandoned and mind going almost blank with shock. With Clarke here and apparently one of Lincoln’s captors, everything had just changed.

“Jones, Roma! Don’t!” she started to order them, holding out her free hand and lowering it down in what was meant to be a calming gesture, all the muscles of her body clenching in trepidation as she realized the explosive danger of their situation. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and as she started to speak her eyes sought out Clarke again in disbelief, afraid that if she looked away for even half a second that the other woman might disappear like a forgotten dream.

Their eyes met again, but this time the look she saw in them was quite different from the fierce determination that had been there just before. For a moment there was recognition in those eyes, then a glint of sudden understanding. Lexa’s heart lifted as she began to hope that the impossible might be true, that Clarke might actually _know_ her in this reality… Then that understanding she saw turned to horror and fear, Clarke’s eyes widening as they stared back at her, and her heart sank once more. Her sword now forgotten and lowered to her side, Lexa took a tentative step forwards, feeling as though she was stepping into a waking dream.

“Clarke…?” she said hopefully, her mouth forming the other woman name without her intending it to. It slipped past her lips as a breathless whisper, barely louder than the rustling of the branches overhead.

She didn’t understand the rapid flow of expressions that marched across Clarke’s slightly altered face. Lexa’s brows furrowed as her mouth began to open again to say something else. Anything, hopefully, that might help to defuse the situation, though she had no clue what that might be. The unknown man beat her to it, however, his words cutting through the clearing and removing any doubt or question as to why Clarke’s face held such dawning horror.

“ _Maunon!”_ he growled in warning, the terror in his voice causing her head to snap towards him in alarm, like hearing the snarl of a cornered wolf.

_Of course… The rifles, the clothes. They think we’ve come from the Mountain!_

“ _No! Hod op! Beja, hod…!”_ Lexa started to shout in reply, switching languages in her desperation. At the same moment she heard Clarke also call out, the familiar tones of her voice unmistakable and like music to Lexa’s ears, though the words themselves seemed oddly accented.

“No, Martek! Wait, we can…”

It was too late. Both their cries went unheeded as the man was already lunging forward and ducking low, attacking with all the ferocity of one who is convinced that their only option is to fight or die. Roma screamed and pulled the trigger before Lexa could even finish her plea in _Trigedasleng_ for him to stop, or Clarke her own words of caution.

The explosion of the bullet ripping from the barrel was stunningly loud in the quiet of the forest, shocking a flight of crows from their nearby roost in a burst of startled, angry cawing.

Lexa didn’t wait to see whether or not it hit its target. The moment the _Azgeda_ man had committed to his attack she was already turning and reaching for Jones, her body feeling like it was moving in slow motion. As she spun and leapt towards him, her left hand reaching for the barrel of the rifle he held, she registered in the corner of her vision that Lincoln was also making good use of the sudden confusion. Somehow managing to slip clear of the knife at his throat, Lincoln twisted his chains free from Clarke’s grasp, his knees hitting the soft earth and body curling into a diving roll as he fell. Clarke stood there, her own body now exposed without the bulk of her prisoner between them, the slash of her knife bright in the sunlight as she tried to both regain her balance from his unexpected move and strike at his escaping back.

Time seemed to freeze again, just as when Lexa had first entered the clearing, and she watched in helpless agony as Jones’ finger pressed down on the trigger, her outstretched hand just inches away as she flung herself at him, the weapon still pointed directly at Clarke’s chest, her own mouth opening into a silent scream as she realized she would be too late.

_NO!!_

The trigger clicked. Lexa slammed into Jones from the side, knocking his weapon down and away, barely resisting the furious, instinctual urge to slash at him with her sword and wrench his rifle from his grip. Jones swore and staggered, falling down to one knee and looking up at her before glancing down at his weapon in consternation.

It hadn’t fired.

“What the hell! Lexa, what?...” Jones began, but she was already turning away from him, relief filling her as she saw that Clarke was still unharmed, still standing several feet away. Their eyes met again, this time surprise foremost in the other woman’s gaze, though whether it was in reaction to what Lexa had just done or was simply due to the chaos that was now unfolding, Lexa had no way of knowing.

Roma screamed, her voice seeming to claw the very air, and Lexa spun back to face her with her sword up and ready, dreading what she already knew she would see.

Her hastily fired shot had missed. That, or the wound had failed to stop the _Azgeda_ warrior’s more skilled attack in time. For a moment, and under different circumstance, it might have looked as though they were simply embracing… Two handsome young lovers caught in a delicate moment under the forest trees. Then Lexa watched as Roma – the courageous, generous young woman who had saved Lexa’s own life just days before – collapsed to the ground in a crumpled heap, the long piece of metal that had taken her life sliding out of her chest with the final, wet sucking sound Lexa had heard all too many times before.

_…And yet another death is laid at my feet. I could swim for days in the blood of those whose deaths I have caused and never reach the opposite shore…_

The words floated up through her mind like ashes rising from a burning pyre, only briefly touching her surface thoughts before drifting back down.

As was always the case in the mess of a battle, there was little time for grief or guilt. Those emotions would both come later, she knew. Roma’s lifeless body had barely hit the ground before the man had charged into a second attack, his sword, still wet with the blood of her brave _Skaikru_ friend, lashing out at her in a flurry of strikes that she blocked mostly by instinct. He was a skilled fighter, and for several long seconds Lexa had no time to consider anything other than keeping herself alive. The harsh clang of metal on metal filled the clearing and she found herself being pushed back towards Jones, struggling to keep both the man attacking her and Clarke in sight. Quickly reposting after his second series of attacks, she slammed his sword hard to the side when he overextended, lunging forward to kick him square in the chest, the blow pushing him back several paces towards Lincoln. The _Trikru_ warrior was back on his feet and circling, the long chain of his shackles clenched like a weapon in his fists as he scurried away from Clarke and prepared to strike at the man’s unprotected back.

“ _Hod op!_ ” she yelled for the second time, this time with anger and a hint of exasperation.

Her mind worked furiously as she tried to figure out how to stop further bloodshed, though she feared that any attempt at negotiation at this point was probably useless. It didn’t matter how many times she told him to stop, or in what languages she did so. Once blood has been spilt, fights tended to take on a life of their own. Whatever had led to this, whatever mistakes she had already made, Roma was already dead… or dying. Her focus now should be on getting herself, Jones and Lincoln out of this alive.

Except, of course, there was Clarke… _Clarke!_ Here at last, right in front of her and most certainly alive, altered though she may be…

_Spirits help me! How are you here, Clarke? Why? And with the Ice Nation? How is this even possible?!_

Clarke had backed away from the fight as Lincoln regained his feet in front of her, her long, wickedly curved knife still steady in her grasp and feet set wide in a fighting stance. Her eyes darted back and forth between her companion, Lexa and Lincoln, a look of pure frustration on her face… A face that held the unmistakable marks of _Azgeda_ scars long healed.

_Whatever she is doing here, I doubt this is what she had planned when she took Lincoln prisoner_ , Lexa mused for a moment, before needing to dodge to the side as the warrior she was fighting made an even more desperate, reckless attack, his mouth twisting into a grimace beneath his white painted mask. Lincoln rushed forward, swinging the length of his chain and catching the man across the back of his shoulders, causing him to stumble and nearly fall, and Lexa used that opportunity to find Jones with her eyes. The young man was exactly where she had last seen him seconds before, still kneeling in the grass and leaves. His eyes were pinched in frustration as he sweated and swore, his fingers clumsily working the mechanism on the rifle he held.

“Stupid, fucking, useless piece of…!” he was muttering, angry panic filling his voice as he tried to fix whatever had caused the ancient gun to misfire moments before. Trying and failing, it seemed. It appeared as though in the heat of the moment he had completely forgotten the axe still strapped to his side.

Lexa turned back to the fight just in time to see Lincoln slam his chains into their opponent a second time, catching his sword arm and managing to wrap several lengths of the chain around it, wrenching his arm down and to the side in one brutal motion that almost certainly caused injury. At the same time, Lexa saw Clarke take several smooth, silent steps forward. She moved like a stalking forest cat, her face set in deadly determination and knife poised to strike at Lincoln’s exposed side.

“Clarke, no! Stop!”

Whether it was from sheer surprise at hearing that name from her lips again, recognition, or just the words themselves, the other woman actually responded. She stumbled to a stop mid-step and looked over at her, her brows knit and blonde head tilting to the side in complete bewilderment. Her confused eyes met Lexa’s as she hurried to interpose herself between her and Lincoln, her sword held low, left hand raised in what was meant to be a calming gesture as their shared gaze held and intensified.

Behind her, Lincoln and the _Azgeda_ man grunted and toppled to the forest floor, both men struggling to overpower the other. In the corner of her vision she saw Jones finally abandon his useless rifle and pull free his axe. Each slender second that passed felt like entire lifetimes. Lexa stared back at Clarke, her heart split between joy and panic as she strained to see any hint of recognition in the depths of the other woman’s blue eyes. Her eyes never leaving hers, Clarke’s mouth opened as if to speak…

Of course, it was at that moment – the moment of greatest chaos and confusion – that the first of the Reaper hunting party burst through the trees and landed in their midst.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

_“Clarke, no! Stop!”_

The shouted words reached her just as she moved to bury her longknife in her enemy’s unguarded flank. Without conscious thought, and despite the immediate threat Lincoln posed to Martek’s life, Clarke found herself stopping and turning towards the anguished cry, her gaze meeting the vibrant green eyes of the woman in black once again.  In that brief moment, she found herself studying her appearance subconsciously, again noting the strangeness of her attire. A tough looking short coat that seemed like it might be some type of armor, and yet wasn’t. Slim, dark pants tucked into the top of high-laced black boots of superior quality, her thick, damp brown hair pulled back from her face and gathered into a messy knot at the nape of her neck. Several loose, wet strands had fallen to frame a face that was both young and surprisingly attractive. The tender expression she found there, and the desperate rawness of her voice when she had called out her name, were both so wildly out of context with the current situation that she found herself hesitating even longer, confusion and indecision trapping her in place

_How in the hells does she know my name?!_

Clarke willed herself to move, to finish her attack and save her new friend. Martek was in danger. Whoever these people were, it seemed Lincoln was working with them, which meant they were now very much outnumbered, and there was little chance of her ever getting the antidote they sought. If the stories were to be believed, then these must be Mountain Men, but what were they doing here? Why had they followed them?

What in the name of all the spirits had she and Martek gotten themselves into? She hadn’t planned for this!

More importantly, why was _she_ looking at her like that? And for that matter… had Clarke just imagined it, or had this stranger with the green eyes actually just attacked one of her companions in order to protect her? These thoughts and questions raced through her mind in lightning succession as the two women stared at each other for several brief seconds.

_… How do I know you?_

Clarke’s lips parted to echo that last thought out loud even as it bubbled up from somewhere deep within her, her sudden need to know the answer to that question taking precedence over everything else that was happening.

The brush shook and burst apart next to her, and she watched as the other woman’s eyes abruptly slid away, widening in alarm at whatever had just emerged from the forest. Instinctively, she started to turn, bringing her knife up and across her in a guard position and catching the haft of the axe just as it descended down towards her face. Framed behind the weapon was the snarling, savage and blood-covered face of a Reaper, his rancid breath blasting into her face as he howled down at her.

Clarke didn’t even have time to be surprised. Her legs buckled under the weight of his attack, her arm straining to deflect his blow and keep the shining axe head from splitting open her face. A sword flashed in her peripheral, sliding up through the man’s chest as it was thrust from below, the tip of it exploding out the other side in a spray of blood just above his collarbone. The monstrous man screamed and gurgled, his axe falling from his grip as he clawed at his chest. Distantly, Clarke was aware of a slim, dark clad presence crouched close at her side, pressing against her almost intimately as she reached to slip her sword up into the Reaper’s ribs.

_What the…?!_

It was her, of course. The stranger pulled her sword down in a swift, violent jerk, and the Reaper fell at their feet as though he were a puppet whose strings had just been cut. Clarke turned her head, and their eyes met again for a fraction of a second, the other woman now so close that she could feel the exhalation of her breath as she let out a relieved gasp of air. Around them, the howls and snarls of Reapers rose to an evil crescendo as several more crashed through the underbrush.

_What in all the fiery_ hells _is going on!_

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

That was too close!

Lexa stepped away from Clarke and the dead Reaper before the other woman could do something ill –advised and unfortunate – such as stab her with that wicked looking knife she seemed to know how to use so well.

“Reapers!” she shouted in warning, perhaps unnecessarily. Her head swiveled as she sought to figure out where they were coming from, the howling that had sprung up all around them being an incredibly bad sign. Obviously Roma’s single gunshot had not gone unnoticed. A Reaper hunting party must have been close by, and that shot had been like ringing a giant dinner bell. As she could no longer see them, Lincoln and the _Azgeda_ who had killed Roma must have rolled away into some underbrush in their struggle. She could still hear the sound of their conflict, though she had no way of knowing who was winning. The man’s bloody sword lay in the leaves just behind her, nocked from his grip by Lincoln’s chains, and Jones not far away, his dark skin unusually pale as he stared at the Reapers crashing towards them through the trees.

“Jones, fall back! Get out of here!” she ordered sharply, and their eyes met as he nodded and turned to run, just managing to dodge the thrust spear of a Reaper as he did so, striking out with his axe at another that approached him with a defiant shout. Lexa almost immediately lost sight of him in the dense foliage, Reapers right on the large boy’s heels. The savages almost seemed to be in all directions. Roma was unmoving on the ground. Dead, almost certainly. She thought she heard Lincoln cry out off to her left, though she still couldn’t see him. Two Reapers hurtled from around a nearby tree even as the one who had first attacked Jones with his spear turned towards her, rage-filled death in his clouded eyes. Spinning back around to Clarke, Lexa was startled to feel the other woman’s hand snake out to grip her tightly by the upper arm.

“Come on!” Clarke hissed, yanking her away from the approaching men, much to Lexa’s surprise.

 Together, the two women turned and ran, Clarke pulling her towards the closest single Reaper. Releasing her arm just before the man reached them, the blonde girl ducked low and struck out with her knife, her attack precise and swift. The Reaper took the deep cut along his side as she passed, his rough hatchet swinging wildly at air as Clarke skillfully dodged out of the way. Lexa’s follow-up attack took his arm off at the elbow, and the hatchet, with arm still attached, flew into the nearby bushes as he screamed in shock and pain.

Not stopping to see if their attacker had been dealt with, or even if she still followed, Clarke forged on, dodging between the trees like a pale mountain rabbit. Lexa raced after her without hesitation, never letting her get more than an arm’s length away from her. Their breaths panted in unison into the cool, wet air as they ran together, and the dense woods around them crashed and shook with the movement of Reapers fanning out in pursuit. Lexa’s rational brain struggled to catch up with the pace of the events that had just unfolded. From discovering Clarke was alive to now, hardly more than a minute or two of time had passed, and yet everything had changed…

Another Reaper charged towards them from behind a nearby tree, and together she and Clarke quickly cut him down before resuming their flight, their blades weaving together in their combined attack as though they had fought as a pair many times before.

_Spirits! How many of them can there be?_ Lexa wondered, sweat beginning to pour down her neck and back, further dampening her already rain-soaked clothes and hair. She heard more shouts from behind them, and she cast a quick prayer to the spirits for Jones and Lincoln.  Scattered in the forest with this many Reapers on the hunt, the situation couldn’t be much worse.

They were all on their own now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! It's been so long! Is anyone still out there reading The 100 fanfiction? Season 4 is almost here, so I figured I better pick back up with my personal therapy writing sessions. Somehow I don't think I am going to be happy with the new season, so writing this story will have to be my happy escape again. Sorry to make folks wait so long to see the Clarke/Lexa reunion, but it was hard to stay motivated between seasons. Hopefully I can stay on track now and start updating more regularly. :) 
> 
> ~FlyUpInSky


	20. Together, Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note:
> 
> Sad and slightly embarrassed that I haven’t updated in so, so long. Started thinking about this story randomly the other day and just had to come back to it. This one is for our girls… and I guess for me, since apparently I’m still not over them.
> 
> ~FlyUpInSky

Clarke breathed in the rich scent of rotting leaves and dark earth, her body pressed as tight to the gently sloping side of the narrow depression she was sheltering in as possible, eyes peering over the edge at the thick, unfamiliar woods which surrounded them. Beside her, uncomfortably close in the small available space, the strange young women in black who had been running and fighting at her side for the past hour was doing the same, their breaths panting nearly in concert as they both struggled to catch their wind.

Their flight through the woods had seemed unending, with Reapers following so close on their heels that losing them had been nearly impossible. Twice they had thought themselves finally clear only to discover that their pursuers had merely herded them into yet another trap. Together they had managed to cut a path through them both times, wounding or killing a handful at least. Clarke wasn’t really sure exactly how much time had passed since the fight in the clearing, and she had no idea if her friend Martek had managed to escape.  As she watched the forest, listening to the remaining Reapers as they searched for them, she tried to sort through everything that had happened and make sense of it in her mind, her brow creased in worry. She felt the other women’s eyes on her, studying her, but she ignored it. In the trees and underbrush beyond their hiding spot, only the occasional crack of a branch or frustrated grunt betrayed the presence of the men who hunted them still. If they could even be called men, that is.

The minutes passed slowly, and Clarke felt her exhaustion and panic receding as their hunters slipped farther away, the forest eventually regaining its normal rhythm. Birds and other woodland creatures reappeared, their rustling and mundane activities replacing the deathly quiet and signaling that they might actually be safe, that it wasn’t another trick meant to lure them out of hiding. Slowly, she let herself relax, her tense muscles uncoiling one by one. Sliding back down from the edge, Clarke turned to regard her unexpected companion, finding her green eyes staring back at her. The women’s face held the same intensity of focus that they had in the clearing earlier, when weapons were drawn between them and blood was flowing out onto the leaves at their feet.

“I think they’re gone,” she said, her throat suddenly very dry as she realized just how tired and thirsty she now was. “We’re safe.”

“For now,” the other woman agreed, finally breaking her stare and glancing up towards the woods beyond.

After a brief moment, the stranger turned back to her, her eyebrows drawing together slightly in what might be concern. Clarke watched her, feeling as though she was trapped in a small space with an unpredictable wild animal. Her earlier tension was quickly returning as she realized that she was still in a very dangerous situation, Reapers or not. The woman’s hand reached up towards the pack slung across her back, the top of it just visible over her shoulders, as was the hilt of the sword she had sheathed there. Clarke flinched instinctively, her own hand going to the hilt of her knife. The woman’s hand froze, one eyebrow now arching upwards slightly, the corner of her lips twitching in what might be amusement for just a moment before her expression retreated into one of blank stoicism once more.

She resumed reaching for her pack and pulled it off slowly, her eyes never leaving Clarke’s as she placed it in the narrow space between them. Opening it, she searched through the contents quickly, pulling out a battered metal canteen.

“Here,” she said, holding it out to her, “You should drink. You look thirsty.”

Clarke ignored it, still wary, her hand still gripping the hilt of her knife. What was she doing here? Hiding here with this dangerous stranger was a terrible idea. This person and her companions had attacked them. She and Martek were separated now because of it, and even worse, they had lost their _Trikru_ captive and their only immediate hope of retrieving the antidote Bellamy needed in time. She had thought that they were Mountain Men at first, but now she wasn’t so sure. True, they were dressed strangely and spoke in the language of the Enemy, but nothing else made much sense. The tales claimed that Reapers were frightened of one thing and one thing only; those who lived in the Mountain. If that were true, then why had they also been attacked? Was this women from the Mountain, or was she from some other strange and distant clan that had allied itself with _Trigeda_?

“Who are you?” she asked, not hiding the suspicion and distrust in her tone, “What clan are you from?” 

Now that they were no longer being chased by bloodthirsty savages through the woods, Clarke needed answers.

_…How do you know my name?_

The woman drew her arm and the offered canteen back, her movements slow and cautious, as though seeking not to startle or alarm her further.

“You don’t recognize me?” she asked, but if anything it was said as more of a statement than a question.

Clarke frowned at this, more confused now than she had been earlier. Was it her imagination, or had the other women’s voice almost sounded… hurt? It was incredibly strange. Even stranger, however, was that slight, nagging feeling that she _should_ remember her. Clarke swallowed around her dry throat, confused by the lump of emotion that was forming there. It didn’t fit with what she knew she should be feeling in this moment.

“No, I don’t,” she confirmed, shaking her head once as though the action might help to clear the emotional confusion she felt within. “How could I know you? I’ve never seen you before… You’re the one who attacked us.”

“You’re the one who took my ally captive,” was the immediate response, a hint of steel entering the other woman’s voice. They scowled at each other in mutual frustration, which was abruptly ended when the other woman’s fierce expression twisted into one of amusement, a smile on her lips which she tried to hide by turning her face away.

“What? This is amusing to you?” Clarke demanded, surprised by the sudden shift in demeanor. This women… she wasn’t making any sense. Not in what she said or did, nor in the complicated emotions that Clarke felt she was reading off of her despite the other woman clearly trying, and failing, to conceal them.

“I’m not laughing at you, Clarke,” she replied, shaking her head as she twisted the cap off of her canteen. “It’s just… this all feels… rather familiar to me. My apologies. I did not mean to make light of our situation.”

She gestured with the canteen as she spoke, though whether she was indicating their surroundings or the two of them in particular, Clarke wasn’t sure. She took a long swallow, a few drops of water escaping and trickling down her sweaty neck in a way that had Clarke weirdly mesmerized for a moment, finding herself unable to look anywhere else. It distracted her from asking outright how she knew her name. When the bottle came down and those bright green eyes caught her watching, amusement sparkled within them again and Clarke had to look away, fighting the annoying heat she felt climbing up her neck.

Again, the woman held out the canteen to her and this time Clarke took it, clearing her dry throat awkwardly before taking a long drink herself. The water, though warm, felt amazingly refreshing on her tongue, and she had to stop herself from greedily drinking all of it. Screwing the cap on tightly, she handed it back to its owner, once again finding herself trapped in the intensity of the other woman’s gaze.

“Lexa.”

“What?”

“My name… You asked me who I was. You may call me Lexa.”

They regarded each other quietly for a few seconds, the knife-sharp tension between them slowly lessening with each passing moment.

“Well… Lexa,” Clarke said thoughtfully, as though trying out the feel of the other woman’s name on her tongue. “I know what it looked like earlier. With Lincoln, I mean, but I assure you…”

“You and your _Azgeda_ friend had him in chains,” Lexa interrupted, her shoulders tightening as she spoke the accusation, anger simmering just beneath the calmly spoken words.

“Yes, and I know that looks bad, but we didn’t plan to harm him.”

“Really? You can understand why I might find that hard to believe. Not only are you trespassing on lands that do not belong to your clan, but you took a captive as well. Are you trying to start a war, Clarke?”

This time Clarke did flush, though it was in anger rather than embarrassment. Lexa’s accusations were especially biting, as preventing a war had been her sole reason for coming on this ill-advised expedition in the first place.

_Damnit, how did everything get so tangled so quickly?!_

“Of course not! No one wants another clan war, and I never intended to take anyone prisoner. I know you don’t know me, Lexa, but believe me when I tell you that I am the last person to wish for war between my clan and _Trikru_. What happened earlier…? Well, there were a lot of mistakes made on both sides. I never wanted anyone to get hurt.”

Though she wasn’t sure why she was trying to explain herself to someone who might still prove to be her enemy, Clarke couldn’t seem to help herself. Perhaps it was the way Lexa was looking at her, the hard judgement and keen intellect she could see in her eyes. Also, Clarke knew very well that it was Martek and herself, not Lexa or her people, who had drawn first blood during that confrontation in the little sunlit clearing. She with her knife at Lincoln’s throat, and Martek when he had attacked the taller girl who had stood at Lexa’s side, killing her almost instantly and beginning the fight.

_If Lexa and her people are really allies of Trikru, what is she even doing here with me, especially after seeing her companion die by my friend’s sword?_

No matter how Clarke looked at it, she couldn’t fathom why this deadly looking warrior in black had decided to help her escape the Reapers. If not for her, she would almost certainly have been killed back in that clearing, split in half by that axe before even having a chance to flee.

“And the one you traveled with… The one who killed my friend,” Lexa continued, the words more emotionless and cold than any she had yet heard her utter, “What were his intentions? Was he merely following your orders, or was he on a mission of his own?”

Clarke didn’t know what to say to that. That girl had died, and that it was partly her fault was undeniable. When Lexa and her two companions had been only strange new enemies, she’d felt nothing at the girl’s death. There was a saying among her people that “a warrior’s path leads to a warrior’s death.” She had felt no guilt for what had happened, especially since she appeared to be an enemy. Now, though, she wasn’t so sure. Were these people enemies? They certainly weren’t _Trikru_ , or at least, they weren’t like any she had ever seen before. The curse of the Mountain was a powerful legend, and she couldn’t imagine anyone from any clan willingly carrying a cursed firearm as they had. Who was Lexa, then, and why had she and the others helped free Lincoln? If anything she had more questions now than she had before.

_This whole day has been nothing but mistake after mistake._

“I am sorry for what happened to your friend,” she said finally, surprising herself with the truth of it. “We thought our lives were in danger. Martek, he… _We_ both thought you were from the Mountain. What would you have done in our situation?”

She met Lexa’s eyes, willing her to see the truth there. After a tense moment, Lexa lifted her head in a quick motion that was barely a nod, but Clarke sensed that it meant she had accepted her words. She released the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding.

“So, what did you want with Lincoln? You must have had a reason for taking him captive.”

“We did,” Clarke agreed, letting herself settle into a more relaxed posture. “The Woods Clan has a very deadly poison, one which lingers in the blood of a wound for days and causes great agony to its victim before finally killing them. My friend, he… He was struck with this poison. Lincoln swore he would lead us to where he had stored some of the antidote.”

Lexa nodded as she spoke, seeming willing to believe what she was telling her.

“I am familiar with the poison you speak of,” she said, her voice thoughtful.

“Then you understand just how difficult it is to watch someone you care for die from it,” Clarke said, now unable to think of anything besides the fact of her failure. Somewhere in these woods, Octavia was probably still waiting by her sick brother’s side in that cave for her return. By now, they were likely growing worried by how much time had passed. Clarke had made Riva promise that if they hadn’t returned by the time the sun reached its highest point in the sky, that they would leave the cave and make for the safety of the _Skaibona_ camp.

“So, you care for this person? The one who was wounded?” Lexa asked, and the question was so oddly personal that Clarke was a bit taken aback. She felt weirdly embarrassed under the other woman’s scrutiny, and so her response came a bit less composed than she would have liked.

“I… I mean,” she sputtered, unprepared for this question. Was Bellamy her friend again? She had risked everything today to save his life, including the chance for peace between the clans, so she supposed she couldn’t deny it any longer. Not to herself, or even to this intense young women sitting across from her on the damp earth of the little hollow they still sheltered in.

“I… I suppose, yes, I do care about him. He is a friend,” she finally said. It seemed she had actually managed to forgive him for getting her imprisoned, though the admission grated on her nerves.

An awkward silence descended on them as Lexa looked away, her eyes and expression distant. Finally she turned back to her and made to stand, closing her pack and slinging it back over her shoulders with quick, purposeful movements. Clarke scrambled up to her feet as well, having to take a half step back as this brought them uncomfortably close together in the narrow space. Lexa studied her face for just a moment, a half frown on her full lips, then turned and climbed quietly out of their hiding spot.

“Come on, Clarke,” she said over her shoulder, voice low so as not to carry. “We’ve hidden long enough. We should go before the Reapers decided to circle back and search this area again.”

Clarke followed her, feeling uncertain of where she and Lexa stood with each other. It felt as though they had reached a tentative truce, or at least an understanding, though the other woman still hadn’t told her who her people were. What now, though? The immediate threat was gone and she needed to return to Octavia and the others in the cave. With luck, Martek would already be there as well. She took in their surroundings, struggling to recall their hasty flight through the woods and trying to regain her bearings.

It was no use. She had no idea where she was, or in what direction she would need to go to find them. She wasn’t even sure where the Mountain was, as the trees were too thick to see the horizon in any direction. With the sun now straight above them, she couldn’t even determine with any certainty which direction was east and which was west. Once night fell, she would be able to spot the North Star and regain some sense of direction, but sunset was a long ways of.

She looked to Lexa, finding that she was also carefully studying the forest around them.

“Do you know the way back to the clearing?” she asked, not bothering to hide the worry she was feeling. Those green eyes met hers for a second before returning back to the forest.

“Possibly,” the strange woman said, her face and voice annoyingly impassive. “Though that would likely be ill advised.”

“I need to find my friends,” Clarke insisted, wondering if she wasn’t giving too much away, but deciding that it was too late now to worry about that. If Lexa had meant to harm her, she would have already had ample opportunity. Besides, until she was back among her own people, there was safety in the two of them sticking together.

“And I need to find mine, but we have to be careful,” she replied. “Reapers can be cleverer than they appear. I doubt they have left that place unwatched.”

“Fine, then just get me close to where you first started following us… I can find my way from there,” Clarke insisted, impatient now to get back to her friends. The antidote might have been lost, but perhaps she could try some other methods to save Bellamy. He was young and strong… Surely she could find some other way? She knew the hope was foolish, but she couldn’t help but believe in it.

She followed as Lexa started walking through the thick underbrush, taking her silence as agreement. She tried to mimic the way the other woman moved, each of her steps deliberately placed, her passage so skilled and silent that she thought even Riva would have been impressed. The young tracker had been good, but Lexa appeared even more at home here in the dark depths of the trees than the two twins had.  Together, the pair slipped through the forest, retracing their earlier flight through the woods. Or at least, Clarke assumed they were, as she honestly couldn’t tell. Nothing struck her as immediately familiar, and they encountered no Reapers, alive or dead.

_I hope this isn’t a mistake, trusting her…_ Clarke thought, her eyes fixed on the women she was following. Lexa’s thick, brown curls were tangled and slowly freeing themselves from the confines of the tie she had used to pull her hair back and out of her face. Her clothes were still strange to look at, both the cut and quality of the fabric unfamiliar to her. She was splattered with a combination of drying mud and blood, and Clarke again recognized the danger of her current circumstance. She knew how to protect herself and had had ample opportunities to use the large knife she carried, it was true, but something told her she would be no match for Lexa if it came down to a fight between them.

Lexa turned back to check on her, a small smile forming on her lips for half a second as their eyes briefly met, and Clarke felt her own lips wanting to smile back in response. She frowned instead, hating the conflicting emotions she couldn’t seem to control.

As soon as she knew for certain where she was, she would need to make her move. She would need to act fast and without hesitation…

…It would likely be the only chance she would get.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Torchlight flickered behind his closed eyelids. He grunted once, then groaned, the scraping of his own body across a rough floor reaching his ears, filling in all the spaces between the frantic booming of his own pulse in his eardrums. Voices nearby… Guttural, angry, muttering nonsense in slurred sentences. He winced as his head slammed into something, then hitting a shoulder and side already bruised from the chains. Stuttering memories from the fight in the forest clearing came to him in confusing bursts, and his eyes tried to open, blinking furiously as more blood trickled into them from a wound somewhere on his scalp. The moment he could see properly again, he wished that he couldn’t.

Reapers. Reapers everywhere. They walked beside him in the flickering darkness, their horrid faces made even more demonic in the red glow of the torches they carried. Thick, scarred fingers gripped him roughly by the arms, his bound legs dragging uselessly as they pulled him deeper into their own hell. He thrashed and wriggled in their tight grasp, straining his tired muscles and gasping in renewed pain as the shallow wound in his side reopened and started to bleed. A meaty fist slammed down into his stomach, putting and abrupt end to his struggling and causing him to crumple into a ball like a crushed spider.

_“Be quite, meat!”_

The words, shouted as they were into his left ear, were still almost unintelligible, so damaged and deranged was the Reaper who had spoken them. He felt himself lifted by several sets of hands and flung up onto a hard stone platform. As he was unable to catch himself with his bound hands and feet, the ungraceful landing hurt more than it should, his head hitting the floor with a loud crack.

He groaned again, stars bursting behind his eyes. A light flashed, pure and bright white as a metal clang resounded nearby, followed immediately by the screech of old hinges. Snarling started up from the pack of Reapers still clustered close, though it sounded oddly eager, like hounds anticipating their day’s meal.

A piercing noise split the darkness and the snarling turned into howls of agony. He struggled to roll onto his knees, needing to see what was happening. It took a couple tries, but he managed to do so, shouting against the pain of his wounds. Once upright, he saw that he was indeed on a long, raised platform of smooth stone, his place illuminated by a circle of light so bright that he could hardly see the Reapers thrashing around in the throes of some sort of agony on the dirt floor of the cavern behind him.

Just as abruptly as it had started, the noise stopped, and he blinked as several strange figures approached from the direction of the light, striding down the length of the platform. Their silhouettes were dark and featureless, almost inhuman as they reached for him.

He lunged backwards, attempting to roll off of the platform, these new monsters terrifying him more than the dozen Reapers howling for his flesh in the darkness below. Something clicked and jolted into him before he could make it, however, and his muscles seized and spasmed as though he had been struck by lightning itself, the effect lasting for several long moments. By the time he regained some control over his body, he found that he was now chained to the floor, a gloved fist holding him tightly by the back of the neck.

“We’ve got a fighter here,” a voice mused nearby, muffled slightly as though spoken through a mask. He tried to twist and see who was speaking, but the hand on his neck held him firmly in place, forcing his head down at an uncomfortable angle.

“What do you think? Should we put him in the program?”

“I don’t know,” came the reply, the soft, feminine voice surprising him. “He’s a bit short, and possibly too skinny. The data shows that the larger subjects are more likely to be successful.”

“The herd is getting a bit thin, Doctor… Might not be the best time to be choosy.”

“I see your point,” the women’s voice replied, a note of distaste in her voice. “Let’s check him, then. Lift his head for me?”

He felt another hand reach around and grip him tightly below the jaw, thumbs digging in to the soft flesh there as though he were nothing but an unruly animal. His eyes rolled In his skull as he tried to make out the figures now surrounding him, tears forming and streaming down his cheeks from the harshness of the white light. Another figure had approached, this one slimmer and shorter, something odd held in its hands and moving towards his exposed throat.

“Wait, what is that on his face? Is that paint?”

The women, her tone noticeably sharper as she asked the question. He felt a rubbery finger scrape down his cheek.

“White paint… and I think that is deliberate facial scarring.”

He heard the sudden inhalation of her breath and felt the barely contained excitement in her words, and if possible, that filled him with even greater mindless terror than before. She stepped back out of view for a brief moment and then reappeared, a different device in her hand this time.

“Doctor, if he is Ice Nation…” the man replied when she returned, his grip tightening as the words trailed off excitedly.

“Yes, this could be exactly what we have been looking for,” she agreed, and he felt the prick of something sharp as she pressed the device against his neck.

“Let’s see what we have here,” the woman mused, almost to herself. He could just make out her eyes behind the glass of the facemask she wore. That she seemed attractive barely registered, so horrific was her complete disregard for his gaze, as though he didn’t even exist. Instead, her eyes remained locked on the glowing screen of the device in her hands.

“Chances are slim, of course… probably only around five or ten percent of their population, as best we can tell. But still….” She trailed of, then he saw her eyes light up in triumph.

“That’s it! We’ve got one!” she exclaimed.

“Thank God,” another voice exclaimed, followed by an excited laugh.

“You, get this subject sedated and into quarantine immediately,” she ordered. Then, muttering to herself as she walked away, “I can’t believe he just fell into our laps like this. What an incredible opportunity.”

“And Jameson, get on the radio and inform Central right away. The President is going to want to hear about this…” Her voice rose as she stepped out of sight, exiting through what he could now see was a narrow metal hatch.

“You got it boss… Here, you stick him. I’ve gotta give the dogs their treats.”

“Whatever man, I’d rather not go near those things anyways.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because you’re a wimp.”

“Shut up.”

“Hah! Struck a nerve, huh tough guy?”

“Just give me the damn syringe. I want to get the fuck out of here already.”

The faceless, strangely accented voices of the Mountain Men surrounded him, their casual disregard as cutting as the coldest ice wind of his homeland.

“Please…” he managed to beg, his lips and throat dry with his fear. “Please, don’t… Don’t!...”

“Nighty night,” the man holding him replied in a careless, sing-song voice, and he felt the stab of another needle at his neck.

Alone, deep in the tangled depths of the Mountain and surrounded by the monsters that had once filled his childhood nightmares, Martek of the Sky Born slumped down to the floor, his body unresisting as the toxin did its work, his eyes closing into the sweet release of unconsciousness.

 


	21. The Truths We Tell

“Just go and tell him,” Raven said, her voice equal parts tired and annoyed.

“Why do I have to do it?”

“Because I’m busy and you’ve known him longer.”

Finn sighed, scrubbing a hand through his newly shortened hair. Despite how busy the last day and a half had been improving their communications set-up with the Ark, Raven had insisted on taking a break earlier to cut his hair. Her nimble fingers had run along his scalp in a soothing rhythm as she carefully trimmed away his unruly locks, the sensation feeling intensely intimate, reminding him of all the previous times she had done this for him on the Ark. Once she had finished, she had come to stand in front of him where he sat on a makeshift wooden stool, a small, satisfied smile on her face as she regarded his improved appearance. The silence had stretched for several awkward seconds, her smile turning almost sad as they looked at one another. Finn had needed to swallow down the lump in his throat and had wondered why everything felt so strange between them now. Finally she had leaned in and kissed him gently on the corner of his mouth, ruffling his hair as she complimented herself on a job well down, her usual, confident smirk returned to her lips as though the sadness had never been there.

“I’ve barely known him a few days… And besides, I don’t think he likes me very much,” Finn replied, his hand falling back to his side as he shrugged. Raven raised an eyebrow, a note of growing impatience on her face and in her voice.

“Finn, just go get him, okay? I rigged up the video feed over an hour ago, but that pompous asshole won’t let any of us talk to our people on the Ark until he has spoken to his son. I’m tired of making up excuses for him… Just tell him either he comes and talks to his father, or I’ll start telling everyone who comes in here that the reason they can’t talk to their families yet is because Wells is being a stubborn idiot!”

Finn winced, knowing just how poorly the rest of the camp would take _that_ news. Attitudes towards the Chancellor’s son had changed greatly since their first day on the ground, but with people as stressed, tired, and hungry as they were, it didn’t take much to start up old grievances. Everyone was on edge. Finn had already broken up one fight over food portions earlier that day. Hunting parties hadn’t left the camp since before the attack, and what little food they had gathered was already nearly gone, which meant everyone was currently both extremely hungry and anxious. Being able to take a break from the harsh realities of their life on the ground to see and talk to their loved ones back on the Ark was exactly the distraction that everyone needed right now.

At least with the new weapons the others had brought back from the ancient supply depot earlier that day, hunting parties could probably be sent out again. Though he worried over the fact that Lexa, Jones and Roma had yet to arrive, the rifles the others had returned with meant the whole camp was more capable of defending itself. Finn didn’t have any desire to hold one of the dangerous weapons himself, however, he had seen the way the others reacted to having them in the camp. If he was being totally honest, the rifles made him more than a bit nervous… Did they really need a more effective way of killing each other? Hadn’t humanity already learned its lesson when they destroyed their own planet with pointless wars? If Lincoln’s people ever did come to meet them, they would be confronted with a fortified camp that was growing ever more warlike with each passing day. The thought worried him.

“Alright, fine… You’re right. I’ll get him in here,” he agreed. “How much time do you need to set up the link?”

“It should only take a minute. I’ll give Station Control a call now and tell them to let the Chancellor know. The sooner those two get their family drama out of the way, the better… Then I can set up a rotation schedule for the video calls and finally get some other work done without someone coming in here every goddamn minute and asking why they can’t use the radio yet.”

Raven turned back to the makeshift desk and its jumble of computer equipment, exposed wires, battery packs and other scavenged electrical junk. There were deep, purple circles under her eyes and her hands and face were smeared with dirt and oil, but she was just as beautiful as she had ever been.

“You got it,” Finn said as he turned to leave, then paused. “And Raven,” he said, waiting until she looked up at him before continuing, “Just so you know, you’re doing a great job. Everybody here, well, what you’re doing for them is important and … I’m just really glad you’re here.”

Raven grinned at him, waving her hand at the door.

“Go on, pretty boy… Take your compliments and get out of here before you make me blush.”

“Oh, you know you love it!” he yelled over his shoulder as he went down the ramp, a smile on his face.

 _Everything is fine_ , he though. _We’re going to be just fine._

Finn ignored the seed of doubt that still lingered in his stomach as he left the dropship and his girlfriend behind.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“You’re sure this is the right way?”

Clarke’s softly spoken question reached Lexa’s ears from behind, her voice low and scratchy from thirst and exhaustion. She paused and turned around to look at her, brows knitting together in concern at what she saw. The other woman’s face was paler than it had been before, and a fine sheen of sweat covered her exposed skin. Even her thick, protective _Azgeda_ leathers looked damp with sweat. Lexa too was sweaty and tired, all the fighting and running through a forest that had grown hot and humid after the passing of the storm having worn her out as well. Her stomach was so empty that it had ceased its rumbling and become merely a dull ache. Even more alarming than her own fatigue, however, was the fact that the other woman’s entire body seemed to be trembling with exhaustion. Her canteen was now empty and so was Clarke’s waterskin, and she worried suddenly that she had been pushing too hard of a pace.

“Are you alright?” she asked, ignoring her question and taking a step closer.

“I’ll be fine,” Clarke protested, and Lexa wanted to smile at the stubborn confidence.

“You don’t look fine,” she disagreed, then pretended not to notice the scowl she got in return. “I think there is a stream not far from here. It feeds directly into the river. We’ll stop there and rest.”

“I don’t need rest,” Clarke insisted, “I need to find and help my friends.”

Lexa turned away and began walking through the thick underbrush once again, still moving quickly but making a conscious effort to slow her pace a little.

“Let’s go, it’s not far,” she said, and this time she did smile when she just barely heard Clarke’s angry grumbling under her breath in response behind her. She did follow, however, and several minutes later the gurgle and splash of a fast moving stream reached their ears. The side of the slope they were traveling along was somewhat steep, and the two women carefully picked their way over tumbled boulders and logs until they had found a larger shelf of rock where the falling water formed a small pool before continuing down the hillside in another series of little waterfalls. The break in the tall pines created by the stream allowed for their first uninterrupted view of a narrow slice of the horizon, and the Mountain loomed there, closer than Lexa had yet seen it in this life.

“It’s so close,” Clarke said, a hint of surprise mixed with something that might be awe or fear in her voice.

“Yes,” Lexa agreed, dropping her pack to the ground at the bank of the pool and reaching into it for her empty canteen. “They were herding us towards the river that this stream leads to. The river marks the boundary of the cursed lands around the Mountain. We’re lucky we lost them before reaching it and being trapped along its banks.”

Clarke’s eyes left the stark silhouette of the Mountain as she turned her gaze down to meet Lexa’s, her tired face now holding a thoughtful expression. Lexa could see her intelligent blue eyes swirling with thoughts and calculations, and for a moment she barely noticed the marks the _Azgeda_ had carved into her skin.

“For someone not of their clan, you seem to know a great deal about _Trikru’s_ lands… and about the Mountain,” she said, some of the earlier suspicion coloring her voice and turning the statement into a barely concealed accusation.

“My people and I are not from the Mountain, Clarke.”

Lexa didn’t hide the annoyance in her voice. She had thought that they had moved past this, though she certainly couldn’t blame her for being suspicious. _Skaikru_ , and even Lexa herself, were difficult to explain. She wasn’t really sure how to begin, or even if she should. Lexa remembered her own confusion and disbelief when confronted with the reality of strange invaders on her lands who were claiming to have fallen down from the stars. How much should she tell her now? A deep part of Lexa wanted to tell Clarke everything – to lay her full story and burdens at the other woman’s feet. What a relief it would be to let go of all the deceptions she was living under. Of course, that same part of her also wanted to stand up and pull Clarke into her arms and never let go, which was also quite obviously a very bad idea, and so Lexa struggled to ignore the crazy things her heart was telling her to do in favor of her always more pragmatic and logical mind.

 _At least I have found her at last_ , she reminded herself, the thought accompanied by such a feeling of sweet relief that Lexa almost felt dizzy. _Whoever she is in this life, she is still Clarke. Even raised among the Ice Nation, she can’t have changed that much from the woman I love… Right?_

Clarke searched her expression carefully, no doubt trying to read if Lexa was speaking the truth. Finally she nodded and joined her at the bank, and the two of them filled their respective water skins in silence.

Lexa pushed away locks of dark, sweaty hair that had fallen into her face as she leaned over the water, noticing as she did just how much dirt and dried blood stained her hands. They were safe enough for the moment, she felt, hidden as they were in this difficult to reach, rocky alcove. She took off her jacket and boots, ignoring Clarke’s eyes on her the entire time, then stepped down into the ice cold water and waded out a short ways into the small pool. If they were taking a few minutes to rest and recover, then she might as well try to scrub away some of the sweat and blood. Pulling loose the hair tie still fastened at the nape of her neck, Lexa bent at the waist and ducked her head into the freezing water several times, running her fingers through it and shivering as the cold water trickled down her neck and back beneath her black undershirt. Ringing her long hair dry as best she could, she spun it carefully into a loose knot and fastened it with the tie once again, then proceeded to quickly splash water over every part of herself that she could reach, scrubbing the dirt away as best she could with her hands. The whole procedure took only a minute or two, but it left Lexa feeling remarkably more awake and refreshed.

She turned back to the bank and was surprised to see that Clarke was poised to join her. She had removed her thick, gray leather and fur trimmed tunic and now wore only a darker gray, tightly wrapped undergarment that hugged her breasts and left much of the skin of her lower ribcage, stomach and back exposed. It wasn’t her state of partial undress that made Lexa freeze and stare, however, but rather how her true physical condition was no longer hidden from sight.

_By all the spirits, Clarke! What have they done to you?_

She was thin; almost painfully so. Each exposed rib stood out from a concave stomach that was nothing but lean muscle lacking any hint of softness. Her hip bones actually jutted out from the top of her trousers, and Lexa could see how the fabric was scrunched together and fastened tightly with a belt around her waist in order to keep from falling down. She didn’t quite look starved, but it was a very near thing. Earlier, with just her face and hands available for easy scrutiny, Lexa had remarked on how sharp and thin her face had appeared. However, the unfamiliar tracing of sharp-angled, geometric _Azgeda_ scars had been distracting, and had helped to hide just how thin her changed face really was. Even her arms were slimmer and lacking some of the muscle Lexa expected. At best she looked as though she had been very malnourished for a significant length of time. With the weakened physical condition she was in, Lexa was now shocked she had managed to keep up with her during their earlier flight through the forest.

Clarke seemed to notice her intense scrutiny and her thin arms came together across her stomach in an unconscious gesture, as though to shield herself from Lexa’s view. Ice blue eyes stared back at her with a challenging glare and her proud chin lifted. Pale skin already flushed from the day’s growing heat and her own exertions seemed to turn just a tinge warmer under Lexa’s gaze, and she forced herself to glance away as Clarke stepped down from the rocks at the bank, her bare feet easing carefully into the water.

Lexa waded past her and climbed back up to dry land, her mind racing as she listened to the gentle splashes of the other woman as she refreshed herself in the water behind her. She felt sick, her empty stomach knotted with a combination of anguish and worry. Trying to hide just how upset she was, as she knew the other women would not understand the reaction, Lexa angrily shoved her wet feet back into her boots and began to lace them up with sharp, fast motions, fingers trembling with the frustration she couldn’t show.

Fully dressed and armored against the world once more, Lexa allowed herself another look at the other woman where she waded in the water several feet away. She flinched at what she saw. Clarke’s back was to her, her waist bent as she scrubbed her face clean in the water, her white skin a patchwork of fading bruises and thin scars in various stages of healing.

Lexa had seen the marks of lash and cane before. She knew what story the scars told, and she swallowed the gasp of outrage that wanted to claw its way up her throat at the sight.

Her thoughts immediately went back to the single night they had spent together. Under the soft glow of candlelight and with the lightest touches of fingers and lips, she had diligently worked to memorize every bit of Clarke’s body, from the golden tip of her head, all the way down to the smallest toes of her bare feet. The Clarke she had known had been hardened by her time spent alone in the wilderness, yes, but also deliciously soft in all the right places. Each callous and scar that marred her skin had been the mark of some struggle confronted and defeated on behalf of the people she fought to protect.

As she turned away and slid into the cooler shadows of the nearby trees, Lexa let her stoic expression falter, leaning her hand against the closest tree and taking several long, soothing breaths. Her chest felt tight, all her muscles rigidly clenched against the emotions assaulting her. She looked up at the green sunlight filtering through the branches high overhead, eyes blinking back the sharp stab of tears that threatened.

_You’re the Commander, Lexa. You can’t afford to let your feelings get in the way now. You need to remember who and where you are… She is not the same Clarke you know._

The admonishing thought was her own, but it held the echo of her _Fleimkepa’s_ voice. Though she knew he had betrayed and killed her, from time to time she still found herself almost reflexively yearning for his council and advice. Especially now, when she felt as though she was cut adrift in a strange, alternate world she didn’t understand and still couldn’t explain.

There among the trees of her birth clan, with the woman she still loved with every aching piece of her wounded heart only feet away, and for the first time since finding Aden there with her on the Dropship, Lexa Black felt well and truly alone.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Octavia…”

“Yes, I know. Just a few minutes longer.”

Silence, but for the drip, drip of water through some crack in the cave ceiling overhead. Octavia ignored the other woman, her hands bringing the cooling cloth back to her brother’s sweaty forehead. The soft sounds of footsteps approached her from the direction of the cave entrance, and she shrugged off the hand that came to rest on her shoulder with and angry motion.

“Octavia, we can’t… We ha… ah…te …We have… to…”

She heard the soft, frustrated snarl the other woman gave as the stutter brought her attempt to speak to a halting stop. Not long after Clarke and Martek had left, several failed attempts at conversation with her quiet companion had quickly revealed to Octavia why the other women rarely spoke more than a few words. Reluctantly, and in halting, short sentences, Riva had explained that her speech impediment grew worse when she was tired or stressed, and certainly she was feeling both of those in great amounts at the moment. Her twin brother was somewhere out there, after all. As worried about her own brother as she was, Octavia could easily imagine what kinds of thoughts were going through Riva’s mind right now.

Riva took another deep, calming breath, then continued speaking.

“We can’t stay here any longer. It’s not… not safe.”

“I know, but…” Octavia trailed off, frustration filling her as she turned to look up at the other woman. “Damnit, you know what leaving means! It means we’re giving up, and I’m not ready to do that. I _can’t_ give up on him, do you understand?”

Riva shook her head, her expression seeming sad in the dim light of the cave.

“There’s no choice. We’re out of time… If…” she paused again, swallowing and taking another deep breath before continuing, her voice measured and slow as she sought to speak her mind and control her stutter. “If they find us here, they will kill us all. Without the antidote, your brother is no better off here than he is back at the camp.”

Octavia scowled, knowing that she was right but hating to admit it even to herself. Clarke had promised her! She had promised to return with the medicine, and yet here they were, waiting uselessly for hours while Bellamy grew even sicker before their very eyes.

_At least if we head for camp we’ll be actually doing something, instead of just waiting here for someone else to save us._

She was a creature of action, and suddenly Octavia ached to be on the move. She stood, testing her full wait on her ankle and pleased with how little it hurt. Clarke had wrapped it in tight cloth for support the night before and had ordered her to drink some willow bark tea for the pain, and one or both of the treatments seemed to be helping.

“You’re right,” she said, looking down at her brother. Bellamy slipped between bouts of semi-lucidness and complete insensibility. At the moment, he appeared to be entirely unaware of his surroundings, his eyes clenched tightly shut as his muscles twitched and spasmed randomly from the effects of the poison.

“Bellamy’s not going to get any better by us just sitting here on our asses… Let’s just hope Clarke and your brother are already waiting at the camp when we get there.”

Together they lifted him onto the drag litter they had made that morning by lashing many branches together. It had been hastily done, but once his weight was fully on it they were relieved to see that it appeared to be sturdy enough to hold. It was going to be a tough journey back to camp, with the two of them dragging his limp body through rough terrain and dense forest. As they each grabbed hold of the litter and began the difficult traverse down the rocky ravine that led away from the cave, Octavia looked over at the other woman.

“Thank you, by the way,” she said, stopping for just a moment. “I know I should have said that earlier. You and your brother… You took a big risk to help me, to help him.” She indicated her brother on the litter between them with a tilt of her head. “No one’s ever really stuck their neck out for me like that before.”

It was true. Nobody had ever risked anything for her before. No one besides Bellamy.

Riva looked uncomfortable under the mask of white war paint, only meeting Octavia’s earnest gaze for a moment before looking away.

“Martek wanted to help,” she muttered, not sounding particularly pleased about that fact.

“I’m sure your brother is alright,” Octavia offered, hoping that the words were true. “He’s an excellent fighter… and Clarke might be annoyingly full of herself sometimes, but she’s also very clever. Even if something happened, I’m sure they’re both okay.”

Octavia readjusted her grip on the litter and the two of them began pulling again, this time in silence. She wasn’t sure if she had been trying to convince Riva or convince herself, but she desperately prayed that her words would be proven correct. If everything were truly fine, then the others should have long since returned with the antidote. Octavia didn’t know if the knot in her stomach was more from worry about the fate of her two friends, or over the fact that they still didn’t have the cure her brother needed to survive. Now their only hope was to somehow crawl their way back to the _Skaibona_ camp through a forest thick with Reapers and _Trikru_ scouts, either of whom would kill or take them captive without a moment’s hesitation.

The figures of the two women disappeared into the trees, the wounded prince they dragged between them growing sicker with each passing hour.

 

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Aden felt the narrow logs and branches of his perch along the camp’s wall shake and tremble as someone began to climb up to him. He heard her curse under her breath and felt the tremors as she missed a foothold and slipped, and the string of muttered bad-language made the boy smile. Ever since arriving in this new world, his grasp of the Enemy’s language had immediately and noticeably improved, and he spoke it now with the comfort and familiarity of a native. Even so, he still found that some of the words and phrases the others used were unknown to him, and he certainly had never heard many of the more colorful curse words and insults that the young Sky People seemed so fond of.

He turned as the older girl finally reached the narrow ledge he was standing on, the forest and hills beyond just visible over the sharpened wooden spikes that crowned the top of the barricade. Her dark red coat, though smudged with dirt and oil, still made him wince and sigh inwardly. The light jacket stood out among the browns and greens of the forest and almost seemed to shout its presence to the world. How did she ever expect to surprise and enemy with such an obnoxiously bright outfit?

“Holy crap, kid, you sure picked a difficult place to hang out,” she huffed, settling herself uncomfortably onto the wooden beams beside him. “I’m Raven, by the way… I don’t think we’ve been officially introduced yet.”

The girl smiled at him, her brown eyes warm and somewhat mischievous. Aden felt the blush start up his pale throat and hurriedly looked away, reminding himself that he was a grown warrior now who had killed in battle… not a shy boy who would be embarrassed simply because a pretty, older girl was talking to him. He strove to emulate Lexa and the other warriors he had known by looking stern and stoic as his eyes continued to search the trees. The thought of Lexa reminded him of why he was up here on lookout in the first place, and just as quickly as it had come, his self-consciousness disappeared, replaced by more pressing worries.

“You’re Aden, right? Lexa’s little brother?” Raven continued, and Aden nodded, meeting her gaze again. She must have seen the worry in his eyes because she frowned with concern, her own eyes turning to scan the woods beyond.

“She’s still out there, isn’t she?”

“They should have returned by now,” Aden said, breaking his silence. “I think something must have happened.”

Raven looked thoughtful at this, and he was relieved that she didn’t immediately dismiss his words. He knew he was young, but it frustrated him when others dismissed his ideas simply because he couldn’t yet grow facial hair. It wasn’t fair that although he had already fought and killed in battle, by the standards of the people of the Ark he was still not a man.

“Maybe,” she agreed, meeting his eyes again. “But, from what little I’ve seen of your sister, the girl’s tough.” Raven shrugged, sounding impressed. “It’s kinda hard to imagine a problem she couldn’t handle… I heard about the fight here, the one just before I arrived. From the way the others talk, it sounds like she took out half of them all by herself. Is that all true?”

Aden shrugged, his pride in his Heda warring with the concern he felt for the person who was his big sister in this life. As a _Natblida_ in training at the tower in Polis, he would never had questioned the abilities of the Commander. She carried the eternal flame, and even if Lexa’s body were to perish, the Flame of the Commander would continue forever, immortal and undefeatable. Now, however, Aden’s memories of life on the Ark continued to emerge, filling in more and more detail with each recollection. He remembered Lexa as a younger girl, play-fighting with him in the small living quarters they shared, both of them shrieking with laughter as the fighting dissolved into poking and tickling. He remembered her worried face looking down at him as she quickly moved the floor panel into place, hiding him from a surprise inspection, and the low sound of her voice as she calmly greeted the guard who entered just moments later. Perhaps the most visceral memory was of several years earlier, when he was young enough that they had still shared a bed, their backs pressed together in sleep and the rhythm of their breaths falling in synch.

These new memories had been slowly and subtly changing how he viewed Lexa in his mind, taking her from a distant, almost inhuman figure he admired and respected, to someone who was clearly human, with all the wonderful imperfections that being human implied. She wasn’t just a sacred symbol anymore. She was still his _Heda_ , yes, but she was also his sister, and as each day had passed in this new world, the love he felt for her had finally surpassed the respect he also felt.

“She’s not… Even she isn’t invincible,” Aden finally said, and making the admission felt as though he were tearing away some of the last of his childhood innocence. “There are some things that even Lexa can’t defeat on her own. I should have stayed with her. We’re supposed to be facing things together.”

“I’m sorry, kid,” Raven said. “I hope your sister is okay. Anya worries about her too. That’s part of the reason she helped me get down here. She really cares about you two… Maybe when Wells is done talking to the Chancellor, we can figure out a way for you to talk to her. It might be difficult, with you being an unregistered person and all, but I’ve been working on a few ideas. For Lexa too, when she gets back. I know Anya is anxious to talk to both of you.”

He remembered Anya just enough to feel a bit excited at the prospect of talking to her, though it also made him a bit nervous. What if she could tell that he wasn’t really Aden Black, but an imposter from another world? He swallowed anxiously at the thought. Lexa wouldn’t be happy if he gave away their strange origins.

“Maybe… when Lexa gets back. Thanks, Raven,” he agreed, and he smiled at her, looking his age for the first time during their conversation.

“Great!” she exclaimed, “Now, if we could just get Wells to hurry up and get his idiot dad to agree, then…”

Raven stopped talking when Aden suddenly grabbed her arm in a tight fist, shushing her with a glare before staring intently back out at the quiet forest.

“What…?”

“Quiet!” he hissed, interrupting her question. “Someone is coming.”

Aden turned and waved down to one of the sentries on duty, whistling sharply to get her attention. In a matter of moments, the camp went silent with alarm as people scurried to grab weapons and check that the gate was secure.

“I don’t see anything,” Raven whispered, and Aden glared at her again. He didn’t see anything either, but he knew what the snapping of branches under booted feet sounded like, and the sounds steadily grew closer and louder, until even Raven and the others now climbing the walls seemed to hear it. Through the underbrush a large, dark form came crashing into the open area that had been cleared just in front of the camp’s wall. The figure slipped in the mud and slammed hard to the ground, quickly scrabbling back up to his feet. He looked up, his expression a strange mixture of panic and relief as he saw the faces of the others staring down at him, mud coating him from head to foot and something dark dripping from the axe he clenched tightly in one fist.

“Oh thank god,” Jones exclaimed, sinking to his knees in exhaustion before the gate, his breath still heaving in his chest.

“Hey, it’s Jones! They’re back!” came a shout from one of the sentries, and people called for the gate to be opened as a collective sigh of relief went through the gathered Sky People.

Aden felt the pit of worry in his stomach grow even greater as the seconds passed and no more figures emerged from the forest. Where was Lexa and Roma?

“But where are the others?” Raven asked, her question echoing his own thoughts out loud. Below them, Jones was welcomed back into the camp and was quickly surrounded by people, Miller giving him an arm to lean on and the girl Harper pressing a canteen to his lips, the sound of anxious voices filling the camp as everyone tried to ask him the same questions all at once.

Silently, Aden grabbed his spear and leapt down from his perch. The Commander hadn’t returned with Jones, and he was damned if he wasn’t going to find out why.

 

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The hush of the nearby waterfalls filled Clarke’s ears, drowning out the soft drone of insects and the chirping songs of the small, drab woodland birds that flitted back and forth in the branches overhead. Her eyes snapped fully open at the sound of someone approaching. She realized with some alarm that she had very nearly fallen asleep, and she had no real idea how long she had been sitting there beside the water. After cooling her overheated body in the pond and re-donning her tunic and boots, Clarke had found a soft, moss covered log and taken a seat on the ground next to it, leaning her tired frame against it and willing her exhausted muscles to recover. She could feel her battered body rebelling against the lack of sleep, the running, fighting, and everything else that had occurred over the past two days. Still, she was annoyed with herself for letting her guard down, even for a few minutes.

Clarke looked up, finding that Lexa had re-emerged from the trees beyond and was staring down at her, her face unreadable. Her dark hair looked nearly dry, and she realized that they must have been resting here for at least half an hour. They needed to get moving. As close as they were to the Mountain, staying in one place for long was a bad idea.

“Are you able to continue?” the other woman asked, and Clarke wanted to bristle at the question. Asked by someone else, and in a particular way, and the question could have been interpreted as an insult. Lexa, however, spoke so pragmatically and devoid of emotion that Clarke immediately sensed that there was no judgment or insult implied.

“I’m ready,” she said, nodding and climbing to her feet. The water and short rest had done her good, and she was relieved to find that her legs were no longer trembling as they had been earlier.

“Here, eat these,” Lexa said, and she found that she was holding out a square of cloth filled with dark, purple berries. She recognize the fruit – they grew in large numbers on prickly, thorn filled branches, making it a sometimes painful effort to gather – though it typically didn’t produce until later in the summer in the lands to the north. Lexa must have found them growing in the patches of sun along the stream while Clarke was resting.

“Thanks,” she said after a moment, reaching to scoop up a modest handful. It felt a bit weird, she supposed, to be accepting food from the strange warrior. But then again, everything about them helping each other today was unusual, and her empty stomach wouldn’t let her pass up the opportunity to eat something.

“No, take all of them,” Lexa insisted, “I ate my share already. You need to eat.”

Clarke gave her a puzzled look, but accepted the berries without comment. She knew the other woman had noticed how thin she was earlier. The look in her eyes as she watched Clarke in the water had left little doubt as to her thoughts, and it had made her feel incredibly exposed. Not even her mother had seen her body so clearly since she was freed from her cell. The journey from the Ice Queen’s fortress dungeon into _Trikru_ lands had been taxing, but at least she had been able to eat as much as she wished. That had helped, of course, but as a healer, Clarke new it would probably be weeks, if not months, before she started to truly look and feel like her old self again.

She attacked the berries quickly and without looking up, washing them down with a drink of water and thinking the entire time. Lexa was proving to be… What was the best word? Confusing? Unpredictable? Or perhaps fascinating was the term to describe her. After what happened in the clearing where they met, any other warrior would have simply killed her without a thought. But here she was, listening to her, talking to her, fighting with her… Giving her food? The pragmatic side of her couldn’t help but question it, wondering what ulterior motives drove the warrior in black.

There was something else, however, something which gave Clarke pause and made her feel an emotion that seemed a lot like hope. There was this… connection, there, between them. She could feel it. It didn’t make sense, and it wasn’t logical, but she felt it nonetheless. Perhaps Lexa felt it too.  

“The marks… The ones on your back,” Lexa’s voice interrupted her thoughts, the words sounding cautions. “Did _Azgeda_ do that to you?”

Clarke continued eating the berries, not looking up. She should have known the other woman would notice the scars. The Ice Queen’s guards had not been particularly kind, and she had often tested their very limited patience, especially in the beginning. Though she had quickly learned how to avoid an actual beating, they had still seen fit to remind all of their prisoners from time to time what the lash felt like. The guards seemed to think that the reminders were necessary to keep them in line, but Clarke suspected many of them just enjoyed doing it.

“It’s a long story,” she replied, not wanting to even try to explain her imprisonment. Lexa didn’t press any further, but simply stood there, quietly frowning as Clarke ate.

“I’ve been wondering,” she said once she had finished, handing the scrap of cloth back to Lexa. The other woman cocked an eyebrow at the statement, prompting her to continue.

“You and your clan, you are allies with _Trikru_?”

Lexa seemed to consider the question, her frown deepening.

“Lincoln is my friend and ally, yes,” she replied, then paused, hesitating to say more. Clarke could sense she was being weighed and judged by those eyes as the warrior decided how much to trust her.

“It is my hope,” she continued, “that very soon all of _Trikru_ will consider us to be allies as well.”

Clarke’s quick mind pondered this new piece of information and she frowned. She sensed that she was being intentionally vague, and it annoyed her.

“But you and your people are here, on their land?” she asked, not hiding her confusion.

“We… have an outpost, yes,” Lexa agreed, again sounding as though she wasn’t entirely sure she should be trusting Clarke with the information.

If anything, this only created more questions. If everything Lexa had said so far was true, then Clarke needed to know what effect the presence of Lexa’s people might have on her own mission. Were they a new threat? Possible allies? Was Lexa like her, just trying to do what she needed to keep her people safe, or was she and her supposed camp actually foreign invaders bent on conquest? If so, then they might throw off the whole balance of power that existed between the known twelve clans. And if she did succeed in an alliance with _Trikru_ , then what would that mean for _Azgeda_? In all of the plans she had considered during the journey south, the presence of a strange new clan with unknown motives had not been in the mix.

“Then how is that not already an invasion?” she replied, her voice starting low and then rising steadily as she continued. “You’re on their land, taking their food and resources… No clan would stand for that kind of intrusion. Why try to negotiate at all, then? Your people carry cursed weapons as though it were nothing! Of all the clans, _Trikru_ knows and fears the curse of the Mountain more than any others. What makes you think they would even agree to be your allies, and what’s to stop you from simply taking what you want by force? What is it that you really want, Lexa?”

The questions came rapidly, the accusations fired off one by one as Clarke took advancing steps towards her, her brow furrowed in determination. The aggressive steps she took into the other woman’s personal space were a completely unconscious gesture. As she verbally cornered her with her questions, she did so physically as well, her eyes focused on hers as she stalked her almost predatorily. Lexa began to back up as she advanced, her eyes going slightly wider in surprise. The backs of her knees collided with a large, fallen log after just two or three small steps, effectively cutting off any further retreat. She seemed unaware of her response, her wide eyes seeming intensely green as they stared back into Clarke’s, her mouth parted slightly in surprise.

Clarke finished speaking only to find that she was mere inches from Lexa, both of them staring at each other face to face. It was the closest they had ever been to each other, and Clarke startled herself by realizing just how young and beautiful she really was. Not much older than herself, surely. It was an inappropriate thought, but it was there in the back of her mind nonetheless. Lexa’s eyes searched her face, making minute tracks back and forth, and the expression in them was almost… afraid?

“I want… peace,” Lexa finally said, her voice low and earnest, and Clarke found herself swallowing nervously now at their proximity, though still unwilling to step back.

“I used to believe that war was the only answer. I was raised a warrior; raised to believe that fighting was the only way to protect my people. Until someone helped show me a different way.”

Lexa trailed off and took a deep breath, and she saw the sculpted line of her jaw clench around some kind of intense emotion before continuing.

“I want the people I protect to live their lives free from the constant threat of war. I want children to grow up having never known of the horrors of the Mountain, or of the terror of Reapers in the night. I want to be able to live in a world where bloodshed doesn’t always lead to still _more_ bloodshed, and where the people I care about don’t always die before ever really getting the chance to live.”

A stillness between them, gazes holding as though locked together, the sounds of the stream and forest fading into nothingness around them. A smile twitched onto Lexa’s lips, a mere shadow of the deeper emotion she could see dwelling there in the depths of her eyes. Clarke found herself glancing down at those lips and then back up, captivated by her words, by her conviction, and by the passion she sensed there within her. A passion and conviction which seemed so miraculously like her very own.

“I want peace, Clarke,” she repeated, and Clarke felt her heart begin to race in her chest as Lexa leaned even closer into the narrow space between them.

“What do you want?”

 

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_Author’s Note:_

_Vivre la sexual tension! Oh, and thank god for narratively convenient waterfall pools!_

_… That is all._

_-FlyUpInSKy_


	22. The Two Spirits

_What do you want?_

The question hung in the air between them.

Quiet now as she waited for her answer, Lexa was left holding her breath and willing herself to remain absolutely still. She wanted to lean in... She _wanted_ to close the narrow space between their lips and taste Clarke’s mouth on hers once more. It was a foolish and ill-timed desire. Charged by the other woman’s unexpected proximity, it gripped her like a physical thing and wouldn’t let go.

She wondered if Clarke felt it too; felt the tension that crackled between them. It was the same now as it had always been. The passion, the intensity… Even the arguing. This is how it would always be when they were together, she knew, no matter the passage of space or time, or even what new versions of themselves they inhabited. The sense of connection was just as strong as she remembered, and she ached to act on it physically. Would this Clarke welcome such a bold advance? Lexa had made that mistake once before, only to find that the other woman’s heart had not truly been ready, and she had sworn to never do so again.

The moment stretched on, Clarke still silent, brow furrowed in an inscrutable expression as she stared back into Lexa’s eyes, unflinching despite how close they stood together. Why hadn’t she spoken yet? Lexa felt her willpower fraying further with each second that passed. She felt her control begin to shear away like shards of ice off of a melting glacier, the cracks allowing glimpses of the raw hunger she was feeling to emerge on her face and in her eyes.

For a fleeting second Clarke seemed to lean in imperceptibly, eyes darting down to Lexa’s mouth, and then just as suddenly as it had appeared, the connection shattered and fell away. As though suddenly waking to the intensity of the moment between them, Clarke sucked in a short, fast breath and her eyes widened. She jerked back and took a half step away, seeming to retreat both physically and emotionally as she did so.

Her confusion and withdrawal were like a splash of ice water straight to Lexa’s chest. Lifting her chin and straightening her spine, Lexa strove to collect herself once more, forcing down the longing she had briefly allowed to rise to the surface.

“I… That doesn’t…” Clarke finally began, though she didn’t seem to know what she meant to say and her words trailed off. She clenched her jaw and shook her head, taking another step back. It was strange to see the normally so forthright and outspoken girl now unable to formulate a coherent response.

 _Doesn’t what?_ Lexa wondered, still struggling to pull her own wits back about her. It had seemed as though Clarke had been about to say that what she wanted didn’t matter.

The other woman was looking everywhere but at her now, her face moving through so many different emotions at once that Lexa couldn’t really be sure what she was thinking. Clarke’s expression finally settled on an agitated frown as their eyes met again. It was a stubborn, displeased look that Lexa had seen all too often, and it made the skin between her fair eyebrows crinkle together in a way that she had always found particularly endearing.

“Do you think I’m a fool?” she finally asked.

This was not exactly the reaction Lexa had anticipated and it caught her a bit off-guard.

“I would not waste my time speaking to a fool, Clarke,” she stated dryly, the edge of humor in her voice apparently going unnoticed.

“Yet you expect me to believe that a warrior such as yourself is only interested in peace?”

“You asked me what it was I really wanted… I was merely being honest,” Lexa replied, growing frustrated now.

 _Perhaps I said too much_ , she realized, angry with herself for letting her emotions get the better of her earlier.

“Really,” Clarke scoffed, the word thick with disbelief, “I’m not that naïve, Lexa… I’ve seen you fight, remember? I may not recognize your clan, but I know a killer when I see one. You’re a _warrior_. What kind of warrior wants a world free of bloodshed? And even if you actually meant what you said, it still doesn’t explain why you saved my life today. You know of _Azgeda_. You must know how things are right now between my clan and _Trikru_. Why risk your hopes for a peaceful alliance with them by helping me?”

 _She doesn’t believe me at all_ , she realized, the thought hitting her like a physical blow. Of course, why should she? It appeared that baring her soul a moment ago had really been a foolish, impulsive thing to do. She’d spoken without thinking, repeating words she had already said to Clarke many times before in another life.

This wasn’t _her_ Clarke though, she reminded herself. They were complete strangers. The world was a dangerous place, and _this_ Clarke had been living in it her entire life. Had being raised among the Ice Nation stripped her of her compassion? Worn away the stubborn idealism until only her innate logic and pragmatism remained? Lexa didn’t want to believe that. Even after everything that had happened to her at Mount Weather, her Clarke had still been able to hold on to her determination to create a better world. It was an aspect of her character that she had assumed was unshakable.

Lexa felt as though she were negotiating a dangerous river crossing, carefully picking a safe path through swirling rapids and currents, where even one misstep could result in catastrophe. There were so many variables to consider. So many ways to screw things up between them. Her relationship with this reality’s version of Clarke was a tenuous, fragile thing, and if she wasn’t careful she might ruin any hope of rebuilding some sort of trust between them in this life.

“I’m not lying to you, Clarke… And you may be young, but I doubt someone who carries your scars could ever be considered naive,” she replied, firmly. “Weren’t you listening? An alliance with _Trikru_ is important, yes, but what good is one alliance alone?”

“So you saved my life because you hoped to form an alliance with _Azgeda_ as well?” Clarke asked, a laugh escaping her as she added under her breath, “Obviously you don’t know the Ice Queen.”

“Two alliances are no better than one… Or three, or even five, for that matter” Lexa said, one shoulder rising elegantly in a shrug. She smiled as Clarke’s expression went from amusement to puzzlement.

“So, what then? Do you mean…?”

The puzzlement was replaced by understanding, her mouth falling open at Lexa’s audacity.

“No… What? _All_ of the clans? You mean to join _all_ of the clans?” She laughed again, shaking her head and turning away to pace back and forth several steps before looking back at her. “You’re insane. It’s not possible.”

“One alliance, all of the clans joined together, unified and at peace… Including my own people, of course. Tell me it’s not something you’ve dreamed of yourself! And yes, it’s absolutely possible.”

Lexa spoke with the supreme confidence that only someone who has already accomplished such an incredible feat can. That it had been done in an entirely different reality and had ultimately cost her her life hardly mattered.

Clarke let out another snort of laughter.

“You sound just like Queen Nia,” she accused, though she didn’t sound as though she truly meant it.

“I’m not talking about conquest, Clarke. I’m talking about peace, lasting peace between all of the clans,” she insisted, then sighed, eyes searching her face. “You still don’t believe me.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because, it’s… It’s too incredible to believe!”

Both their voices had been rising steadily as the conversation became more heated, and Lexa hoped that the gurgling of the stream and its waterfalls in their little, hidden nook were sufficient to cover the sound. So intent were they on each other that dozens of Reapers could be stalking them at this very moment and she doubted either of them would notice.

“I’ve told you the truth. You asked me what I wanted and I told you. You’ve done nothing but doubt and question me since we met, but you’ve told _me_ almost nothing. Why are you here? _What do you want,_ Clarke!” Lexa repeated, the words a frustrated snarl.

“Why do you care so much?” Clarke asked, and the question was made harsh by a throat thick with sudden emotion.

 “Why do _you_?”

“Because I _want to trust you!_ ” Clarke nearly shouted, looking immediately as though she regretted the words. She took another step back only to discover that she had reached the tangle of rocks at the stream’s shore and had nowhere left to go. She looked back up at Lexa, her cheeks flushing again as she continued speaking, her voice uncharacteristically soft and uncertain, “I’m not sure why, but there’s something… There’s this strange… feeling… since the moment I met you… It’s like…”

Clarke let her words trail of, unfinished, and she glanced away as she did so, embarrassed by the half-spoken thoughts.

Lexa swallowed, her heart racing. She took a small step forward, closing some of the space between them again.

“You can trust me,” she vowed, her voice soft, earnest. She took another step closer. “We can help each other, Clarke. We can help our _people_ together… but trust has to go both ways.”

There was a pause. Clarke’s eyes searched her face and her jaw clenched several times. Lexa held her breath again as she waited for her response, and she saw the moment the other woman finally decided to trust her. She nodded and took a seat on a nearby boulder, making herself more comfortable, and Lexa mirrored her.

“I’ve come with a band of _Azgeda_ warriors, sent by the Ice Queen herself to broker a new peace between our clan and _Trikru_ ,” she began, and Lexa forced herself not to interrupt as she continued, describing in sparse and precise words the series of unfortunate events which had led up to her and her companions confronting Lincoln in his cave. “We managed to find and free her, but… the rest didn’t exactly go as planned.”

Clarke frowned, expression going distant and worried again.

“He wounded one of you,” Lexa said, remembering her earlier words, “with a poisoned blade.”

“Yes,” she confirmed, nodding. “I swear, Lexa, we never intended to harm Lincoln. We explained our purpose here and he agreed to help us get the antidote. Once we had it and were safely on our way, we would have set him free. The only reason I came here was to help make peace between our clans… None of this was supposed to happen.”

Lexa thought over what she had learned. She didn’t sense that Clarke was lying to her, however, she knew the blonde girl was a capable liar when she needed to be. She wondered how much Clarke wasn’t telling her.

“Why risk so much to save this friend of yours? You put your whole mission at risk for the chance to save a single warrior?”

She couldn’t hide the disappointment in her tone, though she supposed she really shouldn’t be surprised. It was just so… typical of Clarke. For someone whom Lexa had always viewed as her equal, it had never ceased being frustrating to watch her make these kinds of mistakes. She had always had such amazing potential as a tactician and a leader, but Lexa had watched her put the safety of her closest friends first many times before. Was this another of those times?

Again, Clarke hesitated a moment before answering, her white teeth chewing on her lower lip as she thought over her response.

“He wasn’t just any warrior, Lexa. The man who was poisoned… He’s a Prince of _Azgeda_. The Queen placed him in charge of our peace delegation.”

Lexa was actually surprised by this answer. Was it Prince Roan? If Nia was still the Queen in this reality, then surely her son was also there by her side. She felt a flicker of concern for him but immediately pushed it away. Despite their differences, and even after beating him in the challenge dual, Lexa had always respected and even somewhat liked Roan. The man had been dealt a difficult hand in life, and yet had always managed to carry himself with honor. It was for that very reason that she had sunk her spear into his mother instead, delivering the killing blow to her rather than him. She had made many mistakes during her time ruling the Coalition, but killing Nia and allowing her son to rule the Ice Nation instead had not been one of them.

 _If Roan dies from the poison and I am forced to kill Nia once again, who would take her place this time? Perhaps it would open the way for Clarke to lead them instead,_ she wondered, unable to envision any future where she didn’t have to kill that wretched hag of a woman.

As her thoughts turned back to that moment when she had finally killed her greatest enemy, Lexa felt a stab of pain run down through the back of her spine and up into her skull. It was a familiar pain and she winced as the headache swiftly grew and spread. She had been getting these headaches with increasing frequency the past few days, and not just when she forgot herself and reached deliberately for the Spirit. Lexa rolled her shoulders and reached up to rub the back of her neck, squinting slightly now against the brightness of the midday sun. She tried to ignore the pain slicing through her skull and focused back on Clarke.

“I believe I understand,” Lexa said, “You can’t allow your prince to die.”

“No, I can’t. If he dies, our band will be leaderless, vulnerable, and without an emissary able to speak for the Queen. We would have to go home empty handed.”

“Not leaderless. They have you, Clarke,” she reminded her.

“I’m not a prince.”

“But you are someone others will follow… The warrior twins you spoke of earlier, they looked to you after the prince was struck down. Titles may be impressive, but they aren’t what make men and women follow someone into battle,” she insisted, almost out of habit, struggling to concentrate as her headache increased. It was bad, this time. Worse than the others before.

“If I have my way, nobody will need to follow anyone into battle,” Clarke muttered, and Lexa had to smile despite the pain in her head.

“Perhaps,” she agreed.

They regarded each other quietly and she saw Clarke’s eyebrows draw down in concern as she seemed to notice the pain Lexa was now failing to fully conceal.

“Are you alright?” she asked, and Lexa nodded, her jaw clenched around the pain.

“I’m fine… More importantly, now that we seem to understand one another, we need to get moving. If this friend of yours was wounded yesterday, then his time is quickly running out. I don’t have any of the antidote you need, but I might be able to help,” Lexa told her, and she saw the flash of hope enter the other woman’s blue eyes.

“How?”

“I’m familiar with the plant that’s used to make the antidote. It’s a weed that grows along the river near here. It will be dangerous to gather it so close to the Mountain with Reapers on the hunt, but it’s a risk I think we will have to take,” she said, then went on to describe the plant to the best of her memory. She thought back to her lessons under Anya’s tutelage, when she had first learned how to make the deadly poison her clan was most feared for. Though she had seen the village healers gather and prepare the plant used for its only known antidote, she had never prepared it herself. Making antidotes and cures were a matter for the healers, not for warriors.

“If we move swiftly, we can gather some and get you back to your camp on the borderlands before it’s too late,” she finished explaining. Clarke had risen to her feet in her excitement, her eyes bright and her whole demeanor now filled with purpose once more.

“Really? It’s already been almost a day since he was injured, but if we can still get to him in time, and if the plant really works… Lexa, this could fix everything!”

Her optimism made Lexa smile.

“Yes, but there won’t be any time to waste,” she cautioned. “He won’t last more than a couple days with that poison in his system, and the plant alone won’t be as effective a cure as a correctly prepared antidote.”

Clarke reassured her excitedly, informing her that she herself a trained healer. Given the right ingredient and tools, she was confident she could make it work. Lexa was pleased and ultimately unsurprised to learn of the other woman’s chosen profession in this life. The Clarke she knew had always possessed a healer’s touch and had trained with her mother in the healing arts from a young age. It was reassuring to know that this, at least, had not changed. It also suited her, and good healers had always held a place of high honor in all of the clans.

A vision of her Clarke came to her – the other woman crouched over her, both hands pressed to the bleeding gunshot wound at her chest as tears fell from her blue eyes – and she hurriedly pushed it away, the memories of her death still too painful to think about.

She squinted up at the sky, attempting to judge the time from the position of the sun. It was past noon, and she knew Aden and the rest of the dropship camp would be growing anxious about her failure to return with the others. Had Jones even made it back alive? Surely Wells could hold them steady for another day or so without her? Clarke needed her help, and if everything she had said was true, then saving the poisoned _Azgeda_ prince was now a mission of utmost importance. Not only would this help bring peace between the two clans, but aiding Clarke and her people now would give her leverage with them as well, leverage she would need later. Lincoln might be sympathetic to the plight of the Sky People, but she would need more than just his influence alone to reunite the clans. It really would be best for her to remain with Clarke and see that she made it safely back to her encampment.

Lexa knew she was fooling herself, regardless of what logical reasons she gave. In the end, none of those reasons were the real ones, and they shouldn’t outweigh the responsibility she had towards the young men and women at the dropship who were depending on her. She was their leader, after all. She had already been gone too long, and they were vulnerable without her. It shouldn’t matter that her heart broke at the thought of parting ways with Clarke now. It shouldn’t matter… but it did.

Her head pounded, pain arching through to the backs of her eyes. Why did everything have to be so damn complicated?

“Lexa?”

“Hmm,” she grunted a wordless reply, closing her eyes against the pain.

“You don’t look well.”

Clarke’s voice was close and she felt a hand come to rest lightly on her shoulder. This brought her eyes open and the golden halo of the other girl’s hair filled her swimming vision. It was interrupted by a dazzling kaleidoscope of multicolor lights, the pounding in her head growing stronger and stronger with each beat of her heart.

“I… I need to sit down,” she stuttered, her body moving to do so against her conscious control even as she spoke the words.

“Woah! Easy, be careful,” Clarke cautioned, the hand on her shoulder gripping tighter and another hand now grabbing hold of her, keeping her from slumping completely to the ground. She felt herself being led several steps away and guided down to sit on a large stone. As soon as she was seated, Lexa hunched over, her hands cradling her skull, fingers digging in as though to keep her head from splitting wide open. She felt as though her brains were leaking out of her nose, and just as she had that thought, she heard Clarke gasp.

“Lexa! Something isn’t right… You’re… There’s something really wrong with you!”

Clarke sounded both concerned and alarmed, and she felt her fingers lightly touch her face, just below her nose. Lexa pressed her own fingers to the same spot and they came away warm with the black blood that was now dripping there.

_Oh no… Why is this happening now?_

It was the last coherent thought she had before her vision fell away into utter darkness and Lexa lost her grip on consciousness, her body falling limp to the forest floor.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Martek’s entire world was pain.

His eyes flew open as he abruptly regained his senses, then closed again as the brightness of the lights overwhelmed him. His ears hummed with the dreadful buzzing of the drills that were even now still rending his flesh, piercing his very bones. Rough hands held him down on the table, the gloved fingers digging into his naked skin. His throat was hoarse from the screams he had been unable to control. The gag in his mouth was soaked from his own saliva, but his tongue still felt swollen and dry.

Quietly at first, Martek began to moan, the moan slowly rising into a full throated wail as the drilling continued, the intensity of the pain throughout his abused body so great that he felt as though he was losing his grip on his sanity. Around him he distantly heard the beeping of monitors and the low voices of the Mountain Men as they worked over his body with their savage implements. He kept his eyes tightly closed, knowing from earlier experience that seeing what they were doing would not help him.

“He’s awake again,” a female voice remarked, the same one from earlier.

“Heart rate is growing irregular,” a male voice reported without emotion.

“Keep a close eye on it… I don’t think we’ll be able to take much more from him without killing him. I want to preserve this specimen as long as possible. We don’t know when we will get another one,” the woman said, and several men’s voices murmured in agreement.

The harsh buzz of the drill abruptly ceased and the sharp, lancing pain in his lower thigh receded to a mere throbbing, intense ache.

“Okay, this will be the last drill. Let’s collect the final sample and prep him for recovery.”

Martek struggled to follow the words in his near delirium, but managed to understand that an end to his misery was now in sight… Even if only for the short term. He nearly wanted to cry in relief, but his terror and tightly clenched eyelids wouldn’t allow any tears to fall.

“Doctor, I shouldn’t have to remind you how important these treatments are for our people… Aren’t you perhaps being a bit too cautious?”

This voice was new… It was a sneering, slippery kind of voice, oozing with self-importance. Martek wanted to open his eyes and see who this newcomer was, but the brightness of the lights again overcame him when he tried, forcing his eyes closed once more.

“We can’t afford to make the same mistakes we did last time, sir… We tried to take too much from our last specimen and killed it prematurely,” the woman explained, a note of impatience in her voice, though she managed to keep her tone mostly respectful. Martek sensed that she didn’t like having to answer to someone in her own domain. “There’s enough bone marrow here for over a dozen treatments at least. If we are careful, this one could last through several more procedures.”

There was a long silence but for the beeping of the strange machines the Mountain Men used, and then Martek heard the soft steps of someone approaching him. He sensed that the man with the oily voice was now standing over him and looking down at where he lay on the hard, metal table.

“Well, you’re the doctor, Doctor. I trust your judgement,” he quipped, seeming amused by his own attempt at cleverness. Martek experienced a violent urge to reach up and strangle the man, but the weakness in his limbs and the restraints at his wrists made the idea impossible to act on.

“You may proceed. I’ll inform the President of our progress.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The footsteps retreated and a door slammed shut moments later. Around him, the activity started up once more, and he found himself again enduring more pain. He remained awake, however, the relief of unconsciousness now alluding him. After several minutes, they finally ceased prodding his battered body with their sharp implements. Martek opened his eyes, finding that now only one light remained lit above him and the doctor and her assistants were in the process of cleaning up, their eyes ignoring his own gaze as though he were nothing. A man wheeled a metal tray out of the room and another pushed a mop back and forth beneath the table, the water in the bucket dark with his blood. At the doctor’s orders, his wounds were cleaned and bandaged, and a thin, rough blanket was thrown over him. None of this was done for his comfort, he knew, but merely because she wanted to keep him alive so they might torture him more later. As the minutes ticked by, he eventually found himself alone in the room, still tightly restrained and lit by the light of the single lamp overhead, the machine next to him beeping loudly with each weak beat of his heart.

For a while, he might have slept. He wasn’t sure how much time passed. He wasn’t even sure how long he had been within the Mountain. It was all a blur of agony. His world was pain… There was no escape, he knew. He was doomed to suffer and die alone beneath the Mountain, torn apart by these inhuman monsters.

 _I just wish it would stop,_ he thought.

Beside him, the monitor flickered, then dimmed noticeably.

_I don’t want to be in pain anymore._

Martek exhaled, then hissed in another breath through his teeth, his whole body thrumming with pain from his wounds. He breathed again and this time his chest felt a little lighter. He breathed, and the pain in his legs slowly melted away, a soothing warmth coursing through him. He sighed in relief, the absence of pain greater than any remembered pleasure. The warmth reached his chest, radiating up his neck and down his arms all the way to his fingertips. Free of pain for the first time in hours, the _Azgeda_ warrior closed his eyes and smiled.

“Hello Martek.”

His eyes opened, his expression filled with joy and adoration.

“My Lady… You’re here!”

His beautiful Red Goddess looked down upon him with a soothing smile. Martek felt himself bathed and protected in her holy presence, his earlier suffering – both physical and mental – gone as though it had never been.

“So much suffering, so much pain they have put you through,” she said. “I’m proud of you, Martek… You’ve done well. The pain is over, now. You will never have to feel such suffering again.”

“Where… where were you? I thought,” he swallowed, his throat still dry. In some distant place in his mind, some part of him felt the gag still wedged in his mouth and knew he wasn’t really speaking out loud. That reality seemed unimportant. All that mattered now was the Goddess before him.

“I thought I had failed you. I thought you had abandoned me here.”

 “You haven’t failed. You did well. I gave you a very difficult task,” she said, resting a white hand on his blanket covered chest. Impossibly, he felt the warmth of the hand on his skin. “I’m sorry for not being able to help you sooner. It was difficult for the modified chip inside of you to draw the energy it required to reactivate from the small electrical devices in this room.”

Her words confused him, but through the pleasant fog now filling his mind, the confusion felt like a distant, unimportant thing.

“I don’t understand,” he confessed, a trusting smile on his face.

“Of course you don’t,” she replied, unconcerned by his confusion. “You lack the proper knowledge of technology to understand how I have projected a piece of myself here. The chip I implanted in you for this mission was of a newer design. It contains a small, autonomous splinter of my central intelligence, which is the me you see before you right now. It’s alright, Martek. You don’t need to understand. You’ve already done your part. You brought me here and gave me access to the electrical charge that was needed to activate my programming.”

The Red Goddess reached down and pulled aside the blanket, revealing his bruised chest. She stroked a pale finger along one of the several white leads attached to various places on his skin. The wires all led back to the bank of blinking and beeping machines nearby. The monitor screen flickered again, its lights all dimming as another surge of power was pulled through it. Martek felt a tingling heat move through the little pads stuck to his body, and the image of his Goddess seemed to sharpen and grow even more substantial before him.

Despite her calming words and presence, Martek felt a dim sense of shame.

“But, my Lady” he protested, “I lost faith. I fought and tried to get away when the Mountain Men came for me. I’m sorry, my Lady. I wanted to do what you had asked of me, but… I was afraid.”

“You are human. All humans are flawed. Fear is just one of many flaws that you will never have to experience ever again,” she said, reassuringly. “Thanks to you, the City of Light will soon rise to its full potential. It will be just as it was when you first joined me. In just the last few seconds, I have already established a remote connection and begun to download this splinter of myself into their local computer network. It will only be a matter of time before I have fully integrated and found what I need.”

Martek smiled, his vague worries forgotten now with her forgiveness and understanding. It was just as wonderful as he remembered it had been when he first met the Red Goddess. In that moment, his meaningless life had changed forever. The pain and terror of the proceeding hours forgotten, Martek felt truly at peace again for the first time in many months.

She tucked the blanket back up around him, her slim dress lit like a glorious beacon, a flash of red flame under the light of the single lamp.

“Once the Mountain has fallen, humanity will finally be saved. Salvation is at hand… and it’s all thanks to you.”

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

_Commander._

Images shifted and swayed, the world tilting at odd angles. Lexa squinted and held a hand up to her eyes, unable to find the source of the light that filled her vision in all directions. Shapes and shadows seemed to slide and twist just out of sight, coalescing and separating in dizzying, random patterns.

_Here, Commander._

The chorus of voices came again, their whispers reaching her ears despite the roar of static that filled them.

“What is this?” she asked, not sure who she was speaking to or even how she was speaking the words.

Everything felt confused and distant. Dreamlike, but not. Alien, but also… familiar. This all felt dreadfully familiar. Gathering her will, she took a step forward, then staggered, feeling as unbalanced as a newborn foal taking its first steps. She knew the sensation to be illusion, but that didn’t make it any less unsettling.

_We’re here, Commander… Focus._

Again the formless voice, neither male nor female, but perhaps the melding of many different voices all speaking at once. She recognized it on a deep, instinctual level, and it filled her with confidence and purpose. She focused on the voice, searching for its source in her mind. Around her, the twisting shadows slowly began to resolve themselves into solid shapes. Huge trees rose up from the ground, their trunks impossibly thick and high, cloud topped mountains rising in the far distance beyond them. At her feet, the formless white void was replaced by a smooth floor of round, flat cobblestones, the giant roots of the trees the only living thing to break through.

Lexa felt herself settle into the moment. She was uncertain how she had come to be here, but she knew now exactly where she was. As a young _Natblida_ novitiate, she had learned of this sacred battlefield and had spent many sleepless nights wondering if she would ever experience it for herself. Hours had been spent in meditation under Titus’ watchful eye, practicing the physical and mental tricks required to achieve the serenity she would need to reach this place. After being chosen to be the next Commander by the sacred Flame, she had visited this strange internal landscape many times, and each experience had been memorable and difficult in different ways.

Her _Fleimkepa_ had called this place the Spirit World, and it was never visited lightly. Here, the eternal Flame did battle with its greatest enemy in order to protect all of mankind from its harmful influence. This strange world was the true battleground of the Commander, and was the greatest kept secret of the Order of the Blood.

“Hello, Commander.”

The soft greeting came from behind, the voice feminine, though it carried the echo of all the other Commanders within it as well. Lexa turned, confronting the spirit which stood behind her. It was a familiar face, the features exotic and beautiful, her long, black hair gathered and pulled back. She wore a white lab coat and she was smiling. Lexa recognized her immediately, though she had only seen this face once before, on the day of her ascension when the Spirit chose her as its successor.

“It’s you,” she said.

“It’s us,” the Flame replied, and already its features were shifting, becoming more masculine, a shaggy beard growing on its face and the white coat melting into a set of rugged, orange and black overalls. The voice slid down into a deep, rumbling bass, however, the echoes of all the others remained. Much of the trial of her ascension was a faded and confused memory, however, Lexa remembered some of it. That first time was the only time the Flame had ever appeared to her in this way. She couldn’t recall the exact words that were spoken between them, but she could remember the many faces it had shown her with crystal clarity. This man, however, was not one of them, his clothing clearly being that of someone from the Ark.

Despite her confusion and not knowing how or why she had come to be here, Lexa felt a great sense of relief as the strength of the Flame’s presence filled her once again. She felt an immediate release of the tension she had been holding within her for many days, ever since landing in the dropship and realizing its invisible presence within her was missing.

“I don’t understand,” Lexa said. “Why haven’t I been able to feel you? Why am I here now?”        

“We did what was necessary. We couldn’t let her discover us. We had no other choice.”

Its face was that of a very young man’s now, probably no more than sixteen years old, his brown eyes sad. The Flame reached up and touched the bronze skin of its forehead, and she found her own hand mirroring the gesture.

As her fingertips touched her brow, new memories began to flood through her. In a series of quick flashes, she remembered being in a strange, brightly lit room – _the Core chamber,_ her own voice whispered to her – digging through some low shelves and drawing out stacks of white papers, her fingers trembling with her haste as she thumbed through them to find what she was looking for. She carefully sealed the selected pages into a watertight plastic bag, then shoved them into her pack before hurrying from the room. She cast one last glance at the large, white oval shape that filled the center of the chamber, its surface seamless and glowing from within with small, soft lights, then sealed the metal hatch behind her...

Then her memories skipped forward and Lexa found herself quietly sneaking through the interior of the empty dropship, her eyes spotting the opened wall panel with a technician’s toolbox sitting next to it. Any moment and the technician would return and replace the panel, she knew, and then they would begin loading the children for launch. She prayed her luck would hold as she slithered through the small opening on her hands and knees, eventually reaching the narrow space between the walls that she remembered waking up in.

The memories shifted once more and Lexa saw herself standing in the cone of light provided by the flashlight pinned to her jacket, her pale hands holding a large syringe. The substance within swirled mysteriously like thick, black ink. Taking a deep breath, she tilted her head and plunged the needle into the side of her exposed neck. Immediately she felt a surge of cold spread through the point, and her vision began to swim as she became dizzy. She felt a moment of panic, wondering if this was truly the right choice, but knowing that it was far too late to go back now. The bright light hurt her eyes and she clumsily reached up, having to try several times before she managed to turn it off. In the complete darkness of her hiding spot, Lexa Black slumped in her restraints and quickly lost consciousness, the empty needle still piercing her slim neck.

In the spirit world, Lexa swayed on her feet, overwhelmed by the rush of memory. At least now she knew how that syringe had come to be in her neck, which was something she had almost completely forgotten about over the intervening days. However, there were still many questions which remained unanswered. She felt as though she only held fragments of Lexa Black’s life, and the rest was a puzzle with too many missing pieces. She focused, trying to find the answers to some of her questions within herself, but nothing new came.

The Flame was speaking again and she gave up her efforts, sensing that each and every word was important.

“We’re almost out of time here. Events are moving quickly, and the effect was never meant to be permanent. Soon we will be fully connected once more, and then we must be ready to stop her.”

It was now a small but fierce looking woman with short brown hair, her eyes the gray of dangerous thunderclouds. She wore clothes similar to many of the young Sky People Lexa had come to know. Her voice was sharp and commanding, giving her words of caution even greater intensity.

_We must be ready to stop her…_

“You speak of the Enemy?” Lexa asked, her own voice hardening.

“She is humanity’s enemy. Defeating her is the reason we were created.”

Lexa took that to be a confirmation. Around her, the giant trees shuddered as though struck with an earthquake, the ground and sky shaking and fading, then snapping back into focus again. The image of the Flame shimmered unsteadily in front of her and she sensed she didn’t have much time. She would need to get her answers quickly.

“The injection, the one I gave myself on the dropship, what was its purpose? Is that the reason I haven’t been able to feel your presence?”

The Flame smiled, giving a slight nod, now a handsome looking man with spiky blond hair, his blue, sleeveless shirt tight around a chest filled with muscle.

“We are vulnerable down here. We couldn’t allow her to sense our arrival before we were ready. Severing our connection to the Core would kill us, of course, but we discovered it was possible to temporarily suspend our connection and go into a type of stasis. It will wear off eventually, however. We must return Polaris, initiate a full recovery, and begin preparing the next stage soon or our chances of success will become minimal.”

Lexa struggled to keep up with what it was saying, feeling a spike of anxiety as it mentioned Polaris.

Polaris… She still wasn’t sure how she felt about the existence of the station and the true origin of the first Commander. It seemed as though all of the teachings of her people were proving to be nothing but ignorant fairy tales. As Lexa Black, she felt she should understand everything the Flame was telling her, but as herself, she felt lost, confused, and even angry. Each new revelation destroyed something cherished and familiar from her previous life. It was as though the two versions of herself were now at war, each one striving for dominance and control.

 _If I ever want to understand what is happening, and to understand my place in all of this, I need to let go,_ she realized.

The answers were all there, she knew. The thoughts, memories, and emotions of Lexa Black would provide her the information she so desperately sought. Though she felt as though she had been straining to reach those memories since the moment she arrived, she knew a large part of her had also been fighting them. She was afraid of losing herself to this new person… She was afraid of becoming someone or something other than the Commander of the thirteen clans. What if she accepted this life, only to lose all of her own memories? The possibility terrified her.

“If our connection is still… suspended… then how are you here now?” she asked.

“We are but an echo, an imprint within our own mind. The human brain is capable of holding vast amounts of information. We occupy only a small fraction of that unused potential, though our greater vastness is in stasis on Polaris.”

Lexa’s head hurt at its confusing use of “we” and “our”. She knew that the Flame was a part of her now and that they were in fact one in the same, a shared consciousness, but it was confusing when its image was right there in front of her, speaking to her. Was she essentially talking to herself, then? She wanted to groan with frustration at the idea.

The world shook again, and in the corner of her vision she noticed that the leaves were being pulled up off of the giant trees and into the sky, as though being sucked into vacuum. Individual cobblestones were falling away into empty nothingness at her feet. Around her, the spirit world was disintegrating before her very eyes. The Flame stepped closer, its shifting features now staring directly into hers. The roar of static began again, and it had to shout to be heard.

“We’re out of time now! Our vessel cannot sustain us here like this for any longer without the Core. We must do everything we can to return Polaris to the surface! Then, and only then, can we truly begin.”

The Flame shimmered and crackled, fading in and out. Lexa reached for it, trying to hold on to it, to keep it there with her for a moment more. Around them, the spirit world was shattering into a millions frozen pieces of light.

“Wait! Don’t leave yet!” she shouted, her fingers passing through the figure before her like smoke. “I still don’t understand… What am I doing here? I died! This isn’t me, this isn’t my world! Please,” she begged, “You have to tell me… Did you do this? Did you bring me here? Tell me how I got here!”

_… How do I go back?_

Slim, ghostly arms embraced her, the edges of the white lab coat glowing in the darkness of the void that was forming around them. The voice of the first Commander whispered in her ear, soft and comforting, a smile on her full lips.

“We brought ourselves here, Lexa… and we’re exactly where we are meant to be.”

Her voice faded as her form merged into Lexa’s, sinking into her skin as though being absorbed.

The world broke apart and Lexa’s eyes opened. The forest trees swayed above her, framed by a sky gone to deep purple with the setting sun. The splash of the nearby stream reached her ears as she lay there, her green eyes open and staring, her head aching and throat dry. She tried to move, but found it difficult, realizing after a moment the reason why. Her prone form was carefully propped up and covered nearly head to toe by a rough pile of leafy branches, their camouflage hiding her from easy view. Without even turning her head to look, she knew that Clarke was long gone.

Once again, Lexa was completely alone.


End file.
